Sugar In the Sacrament
by Cadeja
Summary: "No matter how much I detest that bond and how I'm forced to watch it, I can't bring myself to destroy it. I still don't know why..." There is a sudden, terrible flood of warmth as his forehead touches mine. "It's because you're really a very gentel soul, Jizabel." There Cassian goes again, with his pesky, obstinate faith in me. Truly, it feels... almost like being loved.
1. Porecelain

Porcelain, a prelude

_Porcelain_,  
_Are you wasting away in your skin_?  
_Are you missing the love of your kin_?  
_Drifting and floating and fading away..._

I must be missing sleep, tomorrow is the day. It's natural that I can't stop thinking of it. That day I'm sure I'll help you, Doctor; _you _saved me. I go over all the tunnels and catacombs in my mind again: which go closest to Delilah, closest to your rooms and lab, and, of course, by which we could most quickly get away. Neither you nor your father ever told what _you_'d do on judgment day. No, that's wrong, Jizabel. You once told me, perfectly indifferent: nothing. That doesn't mean you'll be free or alone. Alexis will keep you shackled to his side, either as a shield, or just to watch you wear that lost, hollow face as he finally ends you. Tomorrow, I'll risk my life to fight for you. I pray that, until then, you won't kill yourself. The paths underground London are something so low and neglected, even Delilah wouldn't bother with them. And that's why they're our best chance. After that... After that we'll simply live like thieves in the under city; sorry, it's just the best I can afford at the moment, kid. But it's still far better than anything Delilah _or the Card-master_ ever tried to make us into. It'll be hard, at first, but hold on, kid. I'd swear the moon light that falls in slivers on my hand feels like your hair, after all those nights he whipped you. There is almost a sin, in being able to spy that pale, scarred moon from down here in the gutters.

_Someone said that you're fading too soon_  
_Drifting and floating and fading away_

* * *

The teaser for an upcoming fic, once I get done with everything else. Because, after a couple years, I'm for some reason craving Cassian x Jizabel.  
Weird. I always get to the fandoms years too late...  
Lyrics are from porcelain by Red Hot Chilli Peppers, posted on the tumblr link at my profile.


	2. Sugar in the Sacrament

**Sugar in the Sacrament**

_What have you done?  
**You follow footsteps in the dark**  
**and found your faith**  
left out behind your father's car._

They're dead, Justice and various useless trumps.  
"Will you defy me as well, Jizabel?"  
Not that it matters at this moment. Not with father's, or more so the Card-Master's plan. What does it matter if some of us get plunged into hell sooner than others? It is not as if it matters at all to him, all for the sake of that woman from Philista.

"It's been comical to watch a grown man following so blindly after a father..."

As if I had a better option. No, that's not true... there _was _**someone** whom insisted on that to me so often before, but his words were so much kinder yours, Tower. But, that time is over now, and _he_ is long since gone and _free_ now. There, there are the two things I've done that I can have any sense of peace or pride in: Cassian, and my doves. And I let both go, I'm proud of that, too.

"...whom you think may perhaps love you, but clearly does not."

No. No, that is wrong. I actually really do know. These are almost the same words Cassian said, but now they are so _so different_. All because the speaker, I know here that there's no intent but to break me. Tower doesn't know that jobs already been thoroughly done. It's nothing special about Tower, really, but those words make me start running over what I keep in my mind of what Cassian said back then. And what I replied.  
_"Don't try to save me, if I can't get the body I wanted then...I..._  
_If you don't escape from your father's clutches, one day he'll kill you like a dog...! I know it..._  
_Your wings that once were so beautiful... are now so soiled with insanity that they can't be washed off... run away... while you still can..."_  
_"... you're wrong... it's not that i can't escape from my father... I ... don't want to escape..._  
_No matter what he does to me... every part of my body and soul belongs to him...! That's the way I've been molded...!"_  
_"**I understand**... that's too bad... but if... there's ever a time when you want to get out of that pitch black cage ... then... **don't hesitate to call me**..._  
_because you... don't know how to do anything on your own... **after all, you're still just a boy**..."_

"Live your life embracing the mutilated corpse of a loved one."

I smile to myself. It is too late for that, Tower; he is already long gone, and far from this hell, _and **free**_. I wonder,_ if_ **I** could have been...? Sometimes, memories are the only place I'd want to be resting in at the end the world. I'm stuck just contemplating that unobtainable dream as I follow the footsteps before me; distant in my mind and, for once, at peace, _Cassian_.

**Bang**

_"I'll give you his head." _How could I not have understood what Tower meant?!

"_**Father!**_ Father, no!" I can't stop myself from running to Father even if it's too late. I _have to_ rush to Father, I'm a doctor. I can- I can _help_ him. I know Tower will simply kill me if I try to help my father. But, no matter how much I think of everything I've given up and everything I've never had because of Father and his madness, it just appears that I can not betray my own soul. I'm so sorry, Cassian.

"Father! Father, please hold on!"

I run to aid Father, knowing that there is nothing I can do.

_**You said, "there's no one watching over me or over you, it's always out of reach..."**_  
_I'm sinking still right into:_

**_Oh my god where are you now?_**  
**_Fractured lives dissolving_**  
**_Like sugar in the sacrament_**

The wall blows in with the explosion that just shook London from those madmen's ritual, the Doctor's brother and I slip into the hell that is Delilah headquarters. For all my years as part of that organization, I've never been so happy at a mass death as with that explosion that gave us away in.  
Over head on the banister, there's a second bang, after the explosion. A gunshot, and then anguished yells of _father_, and a second gunshot.  
**_Jizabel_**.  
I run up the stairs; I panic; I can't fail after all I owe you, kid; I can't have you save me, and then not return the favor; and you can't be _selfish_ enough to make me fail in the one thing that matters now. At the top of the stairs, Jizabel's still standing, shaking between the ex-butler and his father's crumpled form on the banister. There's a bullet wound at his breast (a lung, probably, from how he heaves) and blood pouring down his leg, yet Jizabel _still_ insists on pulling out his scalpel and facing down a man with a gun, _all for his father_. Poor kid, don't you know the Card Master would never do that for you? Of course, of course you do, he's probably told you such himself. I**_ can't_** just stand by and watch you die for him, Jizabel.

**"Doctor!"**

The moment where Jizabel looks up at me is enough to doom him; I hear a loud, sick thud. He violently slides along the white marble floor, (a mess of silver, white, and crimson) after the butt of the gun gets slammed into his temple.

"Jizabel!" " Riff!" When did the Earl get up the stairs?

We both rush to our- our respective reasons to have even gone into this hell on earth. I tremble out prayer I'd never known before as I kneel by the Doctor's side to check his pulse. I promise I'll pray to that deity every day from now on, after finding out the kid's just out cold.  
I have to get him out of here fast, to a doctor _and_ to a home. The swears just won't cut it now. I run a hand through his hair, to get it out of the wound in his chest. He gasps through parted lips as his body fights to get enough air from just one lung. There's no way Jizabel will survive it with out surgery, and there's no way he can survive in the sewers with it. I stroke his pale hand, it's cool as porcelain. He- he _can't_ just die in the end of all this, _not for that bastard Alexis_, but- but I don't have the money for a doctor and clean hotel. Unless-  
Unless I make good on the payment Earl Cain owes me.

_If it was just one night_  
**_Then we would be released_**  
**_Tie these lies between our teeth_**  
**_Keep tearing open bodies_**  
**_'Let it bleed'_**  
**_Tonight_**

_Where have you gone?_  
_Off with the friends you couldn't keep_  
**_Your mother's arms_**  
**_Fill up with all the empty needs_**  
**_So the saints line up to bring her in,_**  
_Comfort her and it's always comforting_  
_When they start to sing,_  
_the same old:_

My father, my brother and _Riff_ are all here. No, not _Riff._ It's _Riffael_, the Riffael that spied on and betrayed me. The Riffael who's an agent of Delilah, that I must be willing to... kill.  
But still, he's Riff. I can't forget that. Nothing can make forget he was Riff, or make me stop hoping he's still _my _Riff; the Riff who'd gladly drink tea in hell with me. Nothing could make me forget that.  
"It can't be! Don't look at me! Don't look at me!"  
Not even the cold hand that's closing around my throat.  
**Bang** His arm, Riff just shot his own arm. _My _Riff.  
I can't help the disbelief and _hope _in my voice: "Riff... is that really you?"  
"I was delayed... Lord Cain...!" I _know _I should focus on my mission, on my father, on Delilah, but I just run to Riff instead. I'm about to throw my arms about Riff, before his... current _state _has me taken aback.  
"Riff...What's wrong, what did Delilah do to you?"  
Riff gives a small, gentle smile before bringing his unharmed hand to my cheek.  
"Lord Cain... what they did was long ago, before I met you. I- I am one on Delilah's experiments: a deadly doll."  
My heart's sinking to the pit of my stomach as I try to comprehend what Riff is saying, but Riff just keeps speaking:  
"And, it seems, now that I've killed the Tower, that the spell is broken. Forgive me, Lord Cain...It seems, that I must now go as God intende-"  
I pound my fists to his chest:  
"How can you say that, Riff!? You're not dead! You're not even dead!"  
Riff's arms envelope me, as he presses his lips to my forehead before speaking softly:  
"Cain, it is beyond me to do anything. Please,_ let it be_..."

"That is absolutely incorrect. The maintenance and repair of deadly doll is very straight forward, for those with the skill."  
Those aren't my words. I spin around and notice my tour guide is now a different man: the scars are gone, his hair is now a neat short chocolate and... he is desperately cradling my brother as tightly as he can. I think- I think I recognize him:  
"Who are you? Are you part of Delilah? What do you know?! Answer me?!"  
The man walks toward me, steps heavy from my brother's weight. He breaths deeply before speaking:  
"If you want your friend to live, you've only got one option: take the Doctor and me with you, to your estate. Shelter us from Delilah until this blows over."  
"Are you insane?! Do you have any idea how deranged that man is! You're asking me to _kill_ my family!" I can't help my reaction, but it makes the man irate.  
"You don't have the right to talk that way, Hargreaves. The Doctor is the only man who'd be able to prolong your friend's life. Now, please, just agree so we don't both leave empty handed..."  
Riff steps toward the man, cautiously reaching for the Doctor while he speaks: "I have some knowledge of medicine, if you let me take a look, I might be able to help him. Cain, please come here to help me with you brother."  
I step up to Riff and help him shift the Doctor toward the floor to be examined, the man just watches as Riff prepares to put a compress on the Doctor. My brother's breaths are quick and shallow. I speak up addressing the man: "Help Riff, and you're welcome to stay with us, sir-"  
"Cassian. It's Cassian; thank you. I have to take care of something first though."

_'Holy holy, lift up your dress_  
**_Feel your body dissolving_**  
_**Like sugar in the sacrament**'_

_"**If it was just one night**_  
**_Then you could be redeemed_**  
_Tie these sins between your teeth,_  
_**Make hollow promises we'll never keep tonight**."_

Jizabel... is being helped. That makes me feel less alone, but there's still the devil in the room. I'm glad I took off my disguise, just in case. Just in case Alexis Hargreaves wakes up, I want him to understand that the reason he'll die isn't some_ ridiculous_ cursed blood, but an angry ex-trump card wanting to free the eldest son he always spits on.  
I lift a marble bust from it's pedestal. I am not being irrational or vindictive towards the Card Master. That monster has to die so Jizabel can live and be free; _if_ his Father lives, Jizabel will just turn into a pillar of salt when he looks back. I slam the bust down on the Card Master's skull. And again, and again. I speak to him in shaking breaths through clenched teeth:  
"You dead bastard! Did you ever care for Jizabel?! Because he cared about you! Do you even know how much your love'd have meant to him?!"  
I keep bringing the marble statue to his head. I'm not brutal. I'm... fair.  
"Of course you knew! And you didn't care! You don't care! Don't you care now that Jizabel's there dying for you?! How **can't **you care?! He's your _son_, he's a child."  
The Card Master's head is a bloody mess, now. I'm only being fair.  
"_You were supposed to protect him_, but now he's hurt because of protecting you. Can't you appreciate that Jizabel tried to save you, even when you're not worth saving?" But Jizabel is.  
There's barely any intact skull left. And, I'm only being... fair. After all you owe your sons.  
When I look up, the half-brother and butler are staring. I wipe off what blood I can, and sheepishly ask:  
"Is the Doctor alright?"  
"He's going to be stable for a couple hours, but still needs medicine and a surgeon." The butler speaks. I exhale before I can respond.  
"Right, thank you. Now, about getting _you _stable. Come sit here."  
I slit the Card Master's throat on to Riff when he's close enough, and then walk over to Jizabel. The kid still looks a mess, but he's stopped bleeding and is now breathing slower and deeper; all in all, he looks... Alright. Like he's going to be alright.  
"I just can't leave you alone, can I Jizabel?"  
After he's settled in my arms, I announce to Riff and Cain that we should get back to the sewers and leave. Now.  
As we slip away, there's a commotion from Delilah: the Card Master's dead and Death is missing, they say. Death assassinated the Card Master, they say. We run.

**_This is all we've ever known of God._**  
_**Fight with me let me touch you now**._

* * *

Ah... that was the longest chapter I imagine this fic will have, and the events probably took no more than twenty minutes.  
I always felt the Godchild was arbitrarily tragic; (silting your throat because of a bullet to the shoulder?)but that was needed for the theme of "accept the loss of your loved ones and live on."  
Blah.

Note:  
lyrics are from Thursday's Sugar in the Sacrament,  
and that last part with Cassian's important.


	3. Emigre

Emigre

_Darkness is a harsh term don't you think_  
_Yet it dominates the things I see_

_It seems that all my bridges have been burned_  
_But you say 'That's exactly how this grace thing works'_  
_It's not the long walk home that will change this heart_  
_But the welcome I receive with a re-start_

I can only hope that the incident at the Jubilee proves more entertaining than myself. I feel a twinge of self-disgust, that my first thought about a panic and stamped that killed hundreds is only that it stops any gossips from focusing on myself and the Hargreaves title for a moment.  
God knows we'll need the privacy. Especially with Riff as he is now; I still remember from Meridiana, and _other_ events, some of the more disturbing things I've heard about maintaining deadly dolls. The fact I'm now taking the Doctor to our hideout doesn't make me feel any more at ease as we trudge through the London streets, still dark from the power failure.  
I pull Riff's unwounded arm to me, and then use my leverage to pull us both along at a faster pace. I glance back at Cassian plodding along silently with my half- brother, whom occasionally stirs as if trying to get more comfortable. I give a shallow smile and shake my head when the thought crystallizes: I'm bringing a pair of murders, who are in turn being hunted by even more killers, into my family's safe house all because I can't let go of Riff. But Riff can't let go of me either. We move quicker down the cobble stones as the streets begin to become familiar. I'm sure Uncle Neil and Mary will understand.

* * *

Jogging after your half-brother while carrying your dead weight is no good for a man of my age, Jizabel.  
Cassandra was not a very athletic man, to be sure. I've tried my best to correct that, and can't help my amusement when I think of Gladstone's ghost raging at my running through London slums. That mental image is a nice break from how serious our situation may be.  
Not your wounds, it looks like those'll turn out fine with a doctor. Wait, what I should have said is that your body's wounds don't worry me, Doctor. The wounds on your mind, on the other hand are a whole other terrifying picture. I know you had to get away, _you_ know you had to get away.  
But that probably doesn't mean that you'll be able to just accept daddy's death easily; oh, no you won't. I cant imagine you'll be fine with being Cain's house guest or Riff's doctor, but _please_ don't decide to gut the maids in a tantrum, kid. I can't afford a hotel, and I can't think of a better place to hide, and, most importantly the Moon will skin us alive and nail us to Delilah's feast hall once we're found. That'd be a huge step backward for us both, kid.  
I'll have to explain all this to you when your up, Doctor. I wonder why I keep talking to you in my head. I've got to quit this habit, right up there with alcohol and cigarettes.

I realize I really need to quit that habit when I bump into Cain's back as he's standing at the door of a property.  
It's... Nice, big with an ample flowered and wooded lawn, but in no way distinctive for an upper class home. It's not one of the Hargreaves properties that I remember from my time with the Doctor. They must be renting it to evade Delilah, smart boy (but I guess I already knew that from the trouble you caused the Doctor and I).  
There's a thud from the door knocker, and then the door swings open to release a warm light that makes your eyes sore after traveling through sewers all night. The Earl's blond, little kid-sister rushes to wrap her arms about his legs, as high as her body lets her.

"Oscar! Uncle Neil! He's back! Cain's home!"  
Riff shifts out of my line of sight a bit, and it's then that I notice the little girl's face is covered in tears and snot as she buries it in her brother's coat side. A red headed man I've seen with Cain before comes rushing giddily up to the door. I shift Jizabel so his face is hidden against my chest, not that it does any good, the boy's hair is pretty hard to forget. Damn flamboyant tastes when we're on the run.  
"Didn't I promise you I'd return, Mary?"  
The red head seems taken aback as he sees Riff, and then even more so by the Doctor and me. He gives what feels like a forced wave of the hand.

"Uh, hey, Riff! And, uh, Cain is that guy over there-"  
"Yes, Oscar, that man is carrying my older half-brother."  
"But, Cain what I meant to ask was if-"  
"Riff's back, we can trust him the same as before, probably even more. And before you interrupt me again, Oscar, yes, my brother and his friend are staying with us." Oscar, as I now know he's called, shifts his weight between his feet before speaking up.  
"Maybe Mary and I should stay elsewhere, ya know, just so there's enough room for your guests."  
"That's a good idea, Oscar." Cain replies quietly, maybe thinking I can't hear him.  
"That's a bad idea, Lord Earl" I chime in, "if your people move around or act too suspicious, Delilah may become _curious_ about why. Right now, with the Card Master dead by someone else, Delilah has no reason to even care about you, Cain. Don't do anything to give them a reason to start caring about you again."  
"Alright, then. Cassian, go in." The golden-eyed noble motions for me go in and get out of sight from the street, continuing "Riff, call a physician who can keep quiet."

The wall is painted a powder blue, I notice while staring at it. Jizabel lies in the bed while I stand by the door of his room, kinda like the old times. Not that I'd want to return to them. I twirl one of my knives to kill the time.  
It makes this wait feel productive, like I'm retraining my old skills and not just eaves dropping on the Hargreaves at the floor below me. It's all the stuff you'd typically expect, things like: _Cain, did you seriously just bring a pair of Delilah assassins into the house_ and _Uncle Neil, you have to understand-_ and _I'm not sure if his being your brother is sufficient reason_ then _No, it's Riff. He needs a procedure only the Doctor can give._ I can't help the spite I feel in the pit of my stomach and deep in my chest at hearing that this is about Jizabel making himself useful all over again. Hell, even _I_'m using him to get boarding with the Hargreaves. Sorry, Jizabel.  
But, hey, beggars can't be choosers.

The physician Cain promised me shows up later, gray bearded and on guard around me.  
I wonder if the Earl warned him of us or if the tattered clothes, larger stature and spinning knives just seem that dangerous? Either way's fine with me.  
After some tense silence he crosses over to Jizabel only to announce the obvious:  
"He seems to have difficulty breathing, sir."  
"Really? That might have something to do with the damn bullet wound."  
"'Yes, I'd been informed of that" is murmured by the physician before he warns me that what he'll do to drain the blood from the lung will be grisly, and I may want to look away.  
"Don't worry, doc, I'm something of a veteran to grisly medical procedures. Why, I can help out in fact."  
The only answer I get is a suspicious glance as the physician stabs a small clear tube attached to something resembling a billow into the Doctor's side. I watch the kid wince a bit in his sleep as his lung's drained.  
One of my hands scratches his scalp as I mumble _keep sleeping, kid_ without vocalizing the "because I can't deal with you until I've figured things out for myself, Jizabel". When the physician's done, I tell him to give Jizabel a shot of tranquilizer and antibiotics, and to leave some for later, the Earl can pay.  
Then, out the door he goes. I go back to the chair at that kid's bedside, while he lays in whatever dream morphine will give. My hand goes back to his scalp.

The Earl comes up to me, Riff tailing behind him, a bit latter.  
"Cassian, you know we have enough rooms for you to get your own?" Before I can open my mouth, the mild mannered butler interjects on my behalf:  
"Lord Cain, I can't imagine he'd rather be anywhere else." I just grin at that and mutter out a dumb _yeah_ in confirmation.  
"That's good." the young lord says happily.  
"Hm?" is all I respond; somehow, I'm just not one for conversation right now.  
"That my father was wrong about everything. I don't know much of my brother, but... I know he suffered under the same curse as I did. Father's little _you'll die alone and unloved_. I'd imagine he heard it every night. It's just... nice to see how wrong father was about us both." And there is the Earl's arrogant smirk again.

"Yeah, yeah it is." and I've said all that needs to be said.

_Stars hide your fires_  
_For these here are my desires_  
_And I won't give them up to you this time around_  
_And so I will be found_  
_With my stake stuck in this ground_  
_Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul_

_And you, you've gone too far this time_  
_You have neither reason nor rhyme_  
_With which to take this soul that is so rightfully mine_

* * *

The fruit of 16 hours on the road. Originally the first half of the following chapter, but this grew into a chapter of it's own.  
The lyrics are from _Roll Away Your Stone _by Mumford and Sons, at the tumblr link in my profile.  
The following chapter will mention a part of the Wind in the Willows, which is also at my tumblr.  
It is such a beautiful story, read it.


	4. All They Had Seen, and All They Had Lost

All They Had Seen, and All They Had Lost

There is so much warmth, and a hand that's cautiously, tentatively stroking my hair; the same way one treats a stray cat one's helped. I keep my eyes shut afraid the slightest move will make father stop. Fathe- no, no that's not right. Father- Card Master was killed by Tower, and even if that were not the case he would never want to coddle me or waste his time in this manner. The person that was there when I collapsed, that choose to return to the Tower of Babel for _me_, the only that would ever truly want to do this for me is-

"Cass- Cassian, my head feels..." that warmth glides down to stroke behind my ear. I'm... Beginning to notice that Cassian is treating me the same way I treat a beloved pet. My mind's too slow at the moment to decide if I enjoy that knowledge or am offended by it.  
"You lost a lot of blood and took a nasty blow to the head. Plus you're on morphine, kid. I'd ask how you feel but your just going to say 'fine', aren't you Doctor?"  
I turn my head over to where Cassian's voice was, feeling a sting at my side. Tower's bullet, damn him, damn him to rot in hell. But, at least Tower in all his greed could do what I couldn't. My eyes sting when I open them, it's daylight outside the window.  
"You are scolding me as if I were a child, again, Cassian." He smirks while in the chair by me, a book in his hand and that ragged jacket crumpled from having been worn all night.  
Cassian gives a chuckle: "You've earned it... Jizabel." He speaks the last part softly, while eying me as if to look for a reaction in one direction or another. I just shut my eyes again and nuzzle into the pillow. It is soft, warm and a pure white. There is a smell like lavender and daisies caught in the air; I'll ask Cassian how he got the money for such a nice hotel later. My head is swimming, and my mind drowning; right now, all I can think of is sleeping, in the forest with wildflowers and warmth.

* * *

I wished I'd known how _cuddly_ the Doctor is when on morphine; I almost wish I'd tried giving it to him sooner, then he'd have easily followed me out of Delilah by the hand. He's still a kid to me, but I can't help wondering if I just caught a glimpse of what he was like when he was actually a child. Or at least before Alexis got to him. I frown at the last part, "speak of the devil, and he appears", even with Alexis dead I don't want to tempt things, or let the Card Master's memory spoil such a nice moment. I get back to the book, which probably belongs to the kid sister, and keep thumbing through it. It's about little talking animals, or something equally saccharine, but reading a kid's book is less odd than staring at Jizabel's face for hours. If I'm lucky, I'll find something the Doctor may want to hear read. Christ, I'm treating him like a kid; I've got to quit that habit, like alcohol and cigarets.

It's a good hour or so before the Doctor begins to shift, rustling in the white and lilac sheets before getting his arm free to rest a hand on his forehead, making a small groan. I shut the book, using my thumb to mark a passage. I speak quietly, to avoid making his head ache any worse.  
"How are you feeling, Doctor?" Jizabel slips his hand down his milky skin and to that black crucifix, blinking as his eyes adjust to the sun.  
"Honestly, Cassian, I feel like I just took a bullet to the lung." I chuckle, the kids awake and cracking jokes already. At least, I think that's a joke, it's hard to tell with the Doctor.  
"No, kid, I meant- this is at least the second time your life's changed in an instant. How are- are you able to take that? If not, then... remember that I'll be here to take care of you until you can take care of yourself, Jizabel." he sighs and winces with the effort of flipping to lay on his stomach instead of his back. I wish this guy would be more careful when injured. One arm fold beneath his head, and the other wanders forth so his fingertips can trace the back of the hand I'd placed on his mattress. He stares at this hand as if held some great answer, then he speaks:  
"When you say that, you're just encouraging me never to take care of myself...  
Honestly, Cassian, I feel lost, and worthless, and... Incredibly happy and amazed that you came back for me. I never expected that, and I never expected this, and now- now I'm free. There's just so much going on in my mind, Cassian, that I can't describe the din." Jizabel runs his slim white fingers along mine.

I catch his hand and hold it so that it is still.  
"It's alright if you don't understand yet, Jizabel, that's alright. We'll have all the time in the world.  
Hey, kid, there's this passage in a book you should see." I regret saying it when Jizabel withdraws his hand from mine to check for his spectacles.  
Giving a small frown, he replies "I lost them, Cassian. Besides, what book is that you have?" Doctor Jizabel looks comical and docile with his hair bemused from sleep.

"I could read it for you, Doctor. The book's The Wind in the Willows; it's, uh, about animals. You'll like it."  
"You really do believe that I am just a child, don't you Cassian?"  
"That's not it at all, Doctor. Just listen, okay?"

I open to the page I had marked, as Jizabel lays on his side watching me with rapt eyes. I begin.

_It's gone!' sighed the Rat, sinking back in his seat again. `So beautiful and strange and new. Since it was to end so soon, I almost wish I had never heard it. For it has roused a longing in me that is pain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once more and go on listening to it for ever. No! There it is again!' he cried, alert once more. Entranced, he was silent for a long space, spellbound.  
_  
I pause and look up to watch the boy, how he lays his head on the pillow and let's himself sink into thought.

_Breathless and transfixed the Mole stopped rowing as the liquid run of that glad piping broke on him like a wave, caught him up, and possessed him utterly. He saw the tears on his comrade's cheeks, and bowed his head and understood.  
_  
I recount the tale of the little woodland animals, as they sought to help their friend. How they journeyed through night to the unknown, and through that darkness were by dawn drawn to the forest god who did aid them.

_sleeping soundly in entire peace and contentment, the little, round, podgy, childish form of the baby otter. All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered._

_`Rat!' he found breath to whisper, shaking. `Are you afraid?'_

_`Afraid?' murmured the Rat, his eyes shining with unutterable love. `Afraid! Of him? O, never, never! And yet-and yet- O, Mole, I am afraid!'_

_Then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did worship._

And then, how quickly they forgot, and how merciful it can be to forget such a beautiful moment.

_When they were able to look once more, the Vision had vanished, and the air was full of the carol of birds that hailed the dawn._

_As they stared blankly in dumb misery deepening as they slowly realised all they had seen and all they had lost, a capricious little breeze, dancing up from the surface of the water, tossed the aspens, shook the dewy roses and blew lightly and caressingly in their faces; and with its soft touch came instant oblivion. For this is the last best gift that the kindly demi-god is careful to bestow on those to whom he has revealed himself in their helping: the gift of forgetfulness. Lest the awful remembrance should remain and grow, and overshadow mirth and pleasure, and the great haunting memory should spoil all the after-lives of little animals helped out of difficulties, in order that they should be happy and lighthearted as before._

When I look up to see to Jizabel, he's propped up on his elbows seeing me with such an innocent expression of pain and wonder. You really are such child beneath that violent fractured mind, Doctor.

_As one wakened suddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can re-capture nothing but a dim sense of the beauty of it, the beauty! Till that, too, fades away in its turn, and the dreamer bitterly accepts the hard, cold waking and all its penalties; so Mole, after struggling with his memory for a brief space, shook his head sadly and followed the Rat._

_The sun was fully up by now, and hot on them, birds sang lustily and without restraint, and flowers smiled and nodded from either bank, but somehow-so thought the animals-with less of richness and blaze of colour than they seemed to remember seeing quite recently somewhere-they wondered where._

I kneel down to him, using my hand to cup the back of his soft, silvery head to my shoulder; the boy's hand clutches my grimy shirt front.  
"Jizabel? I can help you get this chance to be free and finally have _your_ life. But, no matter how hard I try, I can't think of a way to return to your innocence. You'll have to let it go, I'm so sorry-"  
"No, Cassian. It's alright, you have done more than you ever owed. You... all along, you were the one who could save me."

* * *

This was supposed to have plot and danger and foreshadowing, but I couldn't bring myself to bitter the moment these poor bastards never got to have.

And this time I have the next two chapters written! Seems like I may manage to do weekly updates after all!


	5. Little Talks: Some Days

**Little Talks: Some Days**

I kneel down to him, using my hand to cup the back of his head to my shoulder; the boy's hands clutch my grimy shirt front.  
"Doctor? I can help you get this chance to be free and finally have your life. But, no matter how hard I try, I cant think of a way to return to you your innocence. You have to let it go, I'm sorry-"  
"No, Cassian. It's alright, you have done more than you ever owed. You... You were the one who could save me, in the end."  
We just stay like that, me feeling his breath at my neck, him the heart beat in my chest. The moment's perfect, but that bitch fate takes it away. The knock at the door causes us to quickly break apart, as that overly polite butler opens the door a crack to speak to us.

"Sir Cassian, I have brought food for you and Master Disraelli."

Now, Jizabel stabs me with a sharp gaze that asks _Cassian, is that __**him**__?  
_I'm not able to answer before Riff opens the door and enters giving us a polite, restrained smile. He's carrying a try with milk tea and cucumber sandwiches. It seems he remembered my comments about no meat. I'm actually surprised that there is someone else willing to put up with the Doctor's picky eating; then again there's the fact Riff must have some infinite well of patience if he has Cain as a Master.  
Jizabel yanks my collar down to him, the wheels of his mind visibly turning as he hisses out:  
"Cassian, where are we? What did you do?" I speak into his ear in hushed tones, wondering just how much Riff can tell from the doorway he's at.  
"look, Doctor, you have to calm down. I promise I'll explain once he's gone. Alright?"  
"I am calm. And you can't just brush me of like this; tell me what is going on."  
I quickly get up and walk past the Doctor, to take the service try from Riff, who makes a polite bow and simply leaves. Jizabel watches the whole time with narrowed eyes before I take a seat on his bed. I shut my eyes and run a palm through my hair while figuring out where to start. With the obvious, I guess.

"We're guests of your younger half-brother-"  
" I suppose this is on unkind terms?"  
"Not quite, it's more like... An even exchange."  
"_What_ did we get, exactly?"  
"Your bullet hole patched up, Doctor. And a place to hide from Delilah, who think you killed the Card Master." Jizabel looks away from me and presses his thumb to his lip in concentration.

"We won't need to hide from Delilah forever."  
"Really, Doctor? Because last I checked they're not the forgiving sort."  
"Neither are they the caring sort, Cassian. The only other card who was ever truly loyal to my father is Moon. And Justice on some days, maybe."  
"So the only card we have to worry about happens to be one of the most dangerous? That's not a good thing, Doctor."

There's a delicate, bitter smile that plays at the boy's lips as he continues:  
"If Ida doesn't kill herself for guilt and shame, she will insist on making Delilah's mission to avenge my father, and try to prevent other Cards from usurping the title of Card Master. This will annoy the remaining cards greatly, so they will simply dispose of her.  
Ida will die a pointless death due to her insistence on protecting father, even when he'll never notice..."  
Hearing Jizabel say this, I'd imagine he felt some sort of kinship with Moon, in that they'd both die for Alexis. But at least Alexis noticed and appreciated, even accepted, Ida. Not Jizabel. Never Jizabel. Yeah, that's exactly what the boy thinks; I can see it so clear in the glint of his eyes.

"At least that's a world that we've left behind, Jizabel." I place my hand on his shoulder and squeeze, trying to comfort him and trying to make my presence known. His powdered iris eyes lock with my stolen ones.

"Have we, Cassian? _Have we_?"

I don't speak further for a while.  
"Hey, Doctor, you never asked what our end of the deal with the Earl was."  
"Ah, of course. Tell me, Cassian." He seems so put together and proper, now.  
"There were some issues Riff was having. I think- is he a-"  
"A deadly doll? Correct, he is a revived corpse apparently now driven by the personality Justice created. Riffael is the Major Arcana's Tower Card."  
"So is that what you meant when you said I'd some day understand what those bouts of illness Riff got were?" The Doctor gives a curt nod.  
"Well, Doctor, I'm glad I was correct in assuming such, because there's this deal we have with Cain. A job I agreed for us to do, really. Riff-"  
"No. You cannot make me side with _my father's_ killer, Cassian. What he did is something I will not ever forgive. And what do I owe my dear little brother, anyways? Let Raffit go back to being dust."  
"... Alright, Doctor. I'll... Look into getting us a place to hide." There's a gentle grab of my arm and a softly spoken:  
"Thank you for understanding, Cassian. You're- you are the only person who takes the care to not be thoughtless towards me."

I don't speak up on Riff's behalf. I know, I know it's wrong. I know he's the only guy here who accepts me, or is willing to give Jizabel a chance. But, tell Jizabel who his father's real killer is? No chance in Hell. That boy needs me, so I can't afford to let him know, and then be the one to finally push him over the cliffs of sanity.  
Besides, lets face it, with his personality, Riff was practically meant to get martyred over someone else's crisis. Tough luck: and the sad part is Riff would understand why I'm willing to screw him over. He's the same with Cain. Hell, he might even forgive me, or at least not think I'm being particularly evil, and that doesn't feel any better.

_I don't like walking around this old and empty house_  
So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear  
_ The stairs creak as you sleep, it's keeping me awake_  
It's the house telling you to close your eyes

**_ Some days I can't even trust myself_**  
**It's killing me to see you this way**

_ 'Cause though the truth may vary_  
_ This ship will carry_  
_ Our bodies safe to shore_

I can't help the grin that spreads on my face when it occurs to me that my _dearest _siblings seem to be avoiding me. Not that I've even steped out of the room in the last few days, I see no reason to. Cassian enters and leaves freely, departing at evening only to arrivie again by the next morning, with the daily paper and toast, butter, fruit and milk. My spectacles have yet to be replaced, so Cassian will read aloud while I scoff at how ignorant the world outside Delilah is. It is there that I realize how much my world has changed, I think. Delilah. Card Master. _Father_. It's a dark road, and one I cannot tread. I try to get away from that train of thought in a hurry, mostly by asking Cassian a frivolous question or to do some mundane task. Right now it's a task that I choose.

"Cassian, could you open the window?"  
"Huh? Sure, Doctor." When he get's back, I interrupt his reading. I can't afford to hear another word of the tower and the Jubilee that these reporters seem so fixated upon.  
"Cassian, where are you staying? Not the servants' quarters I hope?"  
"Ha, No. They'd be afraid to have me. I'm actually in the room next to yours." Cassian taps the wall with his fist for emphasis.  
"That's good. It seems Cain is not so terrible a host, but I suppose that is only because he wants..." The Tower. I can't finish my sentence; it's always, always about the Tower. And so are my thoughts, when I don't have Cassian to drown them out. It always goes back to that day at the tower of Babel. And then I'm stuck reliving it in vivid detail. Two gunshots. The first should have hit me, and the second dosent even matter. The Tower's still standing there, gun pointed at me. Then there's Cain- _and Cassian_. After that, everything goes dark for me, but when I wake up it turns out the Tower is still standing. My hand drifts down to the bullet hole, as I search my mind for answers. Cassian mistakes this for my being in pain.

"Doctor, if that hurts I can call a physician."  
"I am a physician, Cassian."  
"Yeah, well apperantly not one who's good at treating his own wounds. Let me take look." I welcome the distraction and slip out of the white cotton button-up I'd been given. Cassian was apperantly given a similar outfit, a white shirt and black slacks which belong to the staff.  
It's not at all bad, feeling Cassian stroke my neck and grip my shoulder as he uses one of his knives to remove the old bandages. Naturally there is a sting from the tincture as he disinfects the wound. It's a familiar sort of hurt, and so I let it lull me as Cassian continues his work. I let him go, I gave him the body he wanted, and yet Cassian comes back for me despite the dangers. I wonder why that is as I listen to his humming of an old carnival tune.

"Wow, kid, it seems like in these last few months the Card Master really took it out on you. The gashes are too deep to heal on their own. Can I -"  
"Our medical team was having difficulties in creating an adequete vessel for his sister. You can look but don't touch, Cassian."  
He pushes my hair asside, tossing it over my shoulder. "You know you don't have to make excuses for him anymore, right Jizabel?"  
There it is again: Jizabel. My name. Not _sir _or _Doctor, _there's no more Delilah. As I said, my world has changed.  
"And you know that you don't have to admonish me for something that can never happen again, right Cassian?"  
"...Yeah. Sorry if I hit close to something, Doctor. I'll get the bandages, just sit tight."

He gets off the bed; I stare out the window in Cassian's absence. There's a soft breeze and distant bird song.  
It's not at all bad. I got a third story room with a window that faces a tree, though it seems no birds roost in it. I smile a bit to myself. I can change that.

**_ There's an old voice in my head that's holding me back_**  
**Well tell her that I miss our little talks**  
**_ Soon it will be over and buried with our past_**  
**We used to play outside when we were young,**  
**And full of life and full of love**

I try to feel frustrated with Jizabel, for leaving part of the food I bring him on the window sill for the birds, but it's hard right now. I guess that's just how the Doctor works, though: he can either be infuriating, or disarming enough that you forget how upset you should be. It's funny how bad I am at making plans, guess it's just a skill I never learned. I'd meant to climb Delilah by using the Doctor. Hell, he seemed so full of himself that getting him punished just seemed like the right thing to do. I don't think I had the same skill for collecting information as some of Delilah's other operatives. Then again, I would never use some of their methods. I guess I just wasn't cut out for the Arcana, anyways. Besides, things hardly ever go to their original plan. I look at the scar on my hand- _Cassandra's_ hand- as I close that boy's door after leaving for the night. To think I made a permanent enemy out of Delilah- and killing his father- all to help Jizabel, but, hey, I guess he just has that effect on me. I wonder if I'll still feel this -for lack of a better word- tender towards him after we're on the run in the streets because he won't help Riff. Stubborn brat. My stomach interrupts. I make my way down to the kitchens, because unlike Jizabel I can't live off a diet of milk, bread and fruit.

There's an unpleasant surprise when I get there. A bullet I'd been hoping to dodge, the Count rushes to me yelling out before I can duck into a hallway.  
"Cassian! You've spoken to Jizabel! Get him down here, we need to do the procedure at once." He's frantic and his voice cracks as hair falls into his eyes with a shake of the head. He looks too old and too weary for 17. Then again, given his family, that's normal for them -though he's the one that got away from that. I end up talking to Cain in the same careful tone I use for Jizabel's break downs.  
"Eral, relax. I'll go get another and we can-"  
"It's. Not. Working. I've tried your way, and tried what I heard of before and its stopped _working_. There has to be some other procedure. I need to talk to the Doctor _now_."  
"I can't let you do that. He's in no condition to deal with this right now. If I lose him because of-"  
"If I lose Riff because of _that_ insane bastard then I swear I'll-"  
"Cain, I'm sorry. Please, try to understand what your brother has been through. His mind is in no condition to deal with-"  
"If he could do his experimenets while insane, I don't see whay he can't help Riff now! Do you have any _idea_ how I feel right now, watching him just fall apart no matter how I try to help!?"  
I understand that feeling better than anyone. "Cain... Please, I know. But I also know this will backfire. Please, just let me talk to Jizabel before you do anything." The anger in his face gets buried by a deep exhaustion.

"Very well, Cassian. Right now while Riff still has the time- until dawn."

**_Some days I don't know if I am wrong or right_**  
**Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear**

_ 'Cause though the truth may vary_  
_ This ship will carry_  
_ Our bodies safe to shore_

**_ Don't listen to a word I say_**  
**_The screams all sound the same_**

_ Though the truth may vary_  
_ This ship will carry_  
_ Our bodies safe to shore_

* * *

Lyrics are from Little Talks by Of Monsters and Men, which can be heard on my tumblr. I've just been introduced to the band, and they are proving quite an addiction.

So, here is part one of two or three. Enter the drama,or melodrama depending on how harsh a critic you are.

And, finally by Monday I'll be done with exams and classes. Meaning I won't keep posting only what I've time to write on the train...

So maybe with luck I can update more than once a week?


	6. Little Talks: Truth May Vary

**Little Talks: Though the Truth May Vary**

The first impulse upon being awoken with a strong nudge of the shoulder is to reach for my scalpel, which isnt there. I'm about to bring up my rank in the Arcana until I remeber. Only then do my eyes adjust well enough to the darkness that I can venture a guess at who it is.

"Cassian? What are you doing, it must be well before five in the morning..." I can't see, really, but who else could it be?  
"Sorry, Doctor. I just... felt we really had to talk." I sit up in bed, wrapping a pale sheet about my shoulders and wishing I'd worn something covering to bed.  
"This will be long, won't it Cassian? You can take a seat here." I shift to an edge inorder to grant him room.

It's a moment before he takes it, giving a heavy sigh and balling his fists when he does.  
"Doctor, Jizabel- why don't you help Riff?"  
"You already know why I can't."  
"Well, no. The one who did that was Tower, not Riff. As far as I can see, they're completely diffrent people."  
"I doubt they're diffrent, but- No, no that is probabrly true. And it's not fair. It's not fair that damed little _Cain_ is the only one who gets to feel love like that." A hand, Cassian's, on my shoulder interupts my tiraed before I can even start it.  
"Doctor, is that why?" I shake my head no before our eyes catch. His are barely visiable in the moon light. I remember those eyes, they are,were Cassandra's: pale blue, the color of ice and hunger.  
Now they shine with hurt; that shouldn't comfort me, but it does. Just to know that someone can feel that much concern over me. I lean closer, so that I can speak more quitely, and in the hope of captureing some of his warmth.  
"No, Cassian. That is not why; no matter how much I detest that bond and how I'm forced to watch it, I can't bring myself to destroy it. I still don't know why..." There is a sudden, terrible flood of warmth as his forehead touches mine.  
"It's because you're really a very gentel soul, Jizabel." There Cassian goes again, with his pesky, obstinate faith in me. Truly, it feels... almost like being loved.

"I think I doubt that. But, I still can't help Riff, because he killed my father. I loved- no, I _still_ love- my father, and maybe he's the only person that I will ever lov-"  
"We never could have gotten away if he were alive, Jizabel! Your father would have killed _us_."  
"_I know_, I know..." I lost track of Cassian's eyes in the darkness. I draw the sheet tighter about my shoulders until an arm draws me close.  
"...I don't know about you Jizabel, but I'm not okay with that. It had to be him or us, and I'm not alright with it being us. Maybe you can accept his killing you, but what about me? ... Could you accept his killing me, would you even care if-"  
"Cassian! Please stop, I- I _am trying_, but I just can't escape from myself. I can't escape from what he made me into... Please, I am trying." Those arms grip tighter.  
"It's alright, Jizabel. It's alright, you're free now. You just need to accept that.  
Get dressed, we have to be out of your brother's house before dawn."

I nod reluctantly when the warmth leaves.

Some days I feel like I'm wrong when I'm right

_Your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear_

_'Cause though the truth may vary_

_This ship will carry_

_Our bodies safe to shore_

Don't listen to a word I say

The screams all sound the same

_Though the truth may vary_

_This ship will carry_

_Our bodies safe to shore_

This is a lot more than I bargained for. I shake my head as if it toss out that thought. Jizabel's getting dressed while I step out to go grab my one or two possessions. I've lived as a runaway before, it won't be a problem to live that way again, I tell myself.

"Cassian, I couldn't sleep."  
"Eral?"  
"I couldn't sleep so I decided to wait outside your rooms while you finished talking. And what I heard-"  
"What are you talking about, Eral Cain?"  
"What I heard was that my brother dosent know that you killed Alexis, and that otherwise he couldn't bring himself to tear me from Riff." the Eral gets up from where he'd been sitting against the wall. I get in the way as he starts towards the door.  
"Eral Cain, please don't do this. Don't make Jizabel have to choose between Alexis and myself. Don't. He's your brother for Christsake; dosen't he deserve his chance to be happy?"  
"... I know he does." With that the Eral just pushes past me.  
I find myself stuck sitting on the other side of a door, listening in on Jizabel and his half-brother, unable to do a damned thing all over again.

_You're gone gone gone away_

_I watched you disappear_

_All that's left is a ghost of you_

_Now we're torn torn torn apart, there's nothing we can do_

I've just finished pulling on trousers when the door opens and closes. I spin around prepared to declare 'Cassian, could you knock' only to see my little brother holding an oil lamp. A mere, simple "Cain" drops from my lips.  
He looks worse for the wear, bags under dull eyes.

"It wasn't Riff, it was Cassian." He blurts it out as quick as his tongue allows.  
"What on earth are you talking about, Cain? Has someone finally made you go mad?" I try to laugh at my little brother, maybe he'll get the hint. Maybe Cain will just leave without another word or problem. He licks his lips and speaks.  
"I said, Doctor, that the person whom killed Alexis Hargeeves was Cassian." I- I want so badly to laugh at Cain now, he- he is just pathetic and desperate.  
"Do you think I'll believe you, my _dear little_ Cain? We both know you would say anything to help the Tower right now. You clearly think I'm quite gulable." If this were not Cain, I'd think he looks hurt and afraid.  
"Yes, yes I would. But we also both know you, Doctor, are master at denying people's motives whenever it helps you live in fantasy. Do you know why Cassian killed him? You, it was for you." That- that's enough, Cain is taking this too far. It's _sickening _how desperate he is.  
"Get out of here so I can dress. I have no reason to tolerate your presence, _brother dearest_." It's dark enough that we can't see a thing.  
"Did you ever notice how much he hated Alexis? Did you know he cared for you; thought of you, of all people, were like a child. I know this because he said it when he killed father." Cain goes silent as the bone china saucer shatters just above him.

It was the wrong one; I threw the wrong one, the plate with little ivy and rabbits on it, I liked that plate and had meant to take it with me.  
"... Just leave now, Cain." Before you make me break something else that I want.

_Now we're torn torn torn apart, there's nothing we can do_

_Just let me go we'll meet again soon_

_Now wait wait wait for me_

_Please hang around_

_I'll see you when I fall asleep_

After a crash, the Eral rushes out. He runs down the hall,but not before looking at me with an emotion I can't identify; It's frightening. It's frightening when I go into Jizabel's room. He's finishing up with the buttons of his shirt when he spins around to the open door, ready to yell until he sees I'm not Cain. Jizabel fumbles through a drawer to get matches for the oil lamp.  
Once it's lit, I see he stands trembling with a fragile grin on his face. It could freeze the blood in your veins, even more so when he chuckles and speaks out:

"Cassian, Cain is so petty that you would not believe the lies he comes up with when jealous."

I don't speak, I can't speak. I pray he dosent speak. Damnit, Jizabel why do you always choose the worst possiable times to open your mouth? He puts the lamp down before shaking his head, that almost smile still there.

"And they are ridiculous lies, Cassian. Do you know what the damned little Cain said? He claims that you commit Riffael's crime, that you killed my father. But that's not true, correct? Because you don't want to hurt me. You wouldn't ever do something like that to hurt me. For once, Cain is jealous of _me_." Jizabel stands by me, brushing the back of his hand upon my cheek bone.

He remains there, grinning like broken glass and spilled formaldehyde, while playing with the hair by my ear, maybe expecting me to hold or comfort him.  
Under everything he is doing, there is fear. That fear tinges his voice when he speaks:

"Cassian, please say something, why don't you?" I can't trust myself to open my mouth, and risk saying a truth that this man is much, much too fragile to hear. I need to lie to him, but I just can't. So I choose silence.

"What happened to my father?" And that only hurts further.

"Jizabel, you don't have any idea how important you are to me. You're- you are everything. And there is nothing that either you or the world could do to make me care any less for you, remember that." He steps back seeming just as fearful and a bit more dangerous.

"...That had nothing to do with my question, Cassian. Tell me, what happened to kill my father?" I swollow air, still trying to find my voice. Jizabel keeps talking, louder now as dawn breaks through the far window. Those birds he's fed are already at the sill; I hope the Doctor isn't loud enough to frighten them away. I don't want him to be left alone again.

"Cassian, it's simple. Just deny it, say it was Riff. Cain is simply making this all up to get back at me. Won't you just say **_something_**!?" I finally catch my voice then, seeing him break apart in the morning light.

"Jizabel, it's - I was the one wh-" I don't move away or fight it when that panicked boy rushes to pin me to the wall.

"**Don't**. Say. Another. Word. Cassian." I pin his arms behind his back; he lets me.

"...Sorry, Doctor, but we can't live on lies any longer." I doubt myself then. Can't we, would one final secret between us be _that_ bad? Not if it lets me stay by him, I could make up for it. I could make up for telling that one lie by protecting him, I could take care of him then. I should have thought of that before opening my mouth. After all, I don't need to say anything more. Jizabel is a smart enough kid that he's no longer in denial. I can tell by the screams that rip from his throat and the way he thrashes in my arms.  
I want to tell him to calm down, everything will be all right; but I don't even believe that myself.  
Instead of comfort, all I can do is restrain him. When the screams about betrayal and revenge die down into sobs and sorry whispers of _leave, Cassian, just leave now _I step back, lowering him gently to the floor. If I simply let go then that boy would let himself fall.  
I go to the door, and for all the damage my mouth's done tonight, I open it when I see Jizabel crying on the floor in the winter sunlight.  
"I'm... I'm very sorry, Jizabel. I regret what I've done to you, not to him."

The minute I'm outside the Earl's kid sister shows up, for the first time. I guess I finally don't seem dangerous enough to scare her off, huh?  
"Sir, what's wrong? You're crying... If you don't want to talk right now, it's fine."  
To think I'd thought we'd finally escaped the Card Master. I'd always seen Alexis Hargreaves as a devil holding everyone who could reach down. But why did I have to run my mouth back there? We are all our own devil, and we make this world our hell.

* * *

Updated in record time, and Jizabel is back to being the mental train wreck we all know and love.  
No, not really. I'd wanted fluff, but instead I'm writing this.  
There's an entire universe of moments, emotions and scenarios these two never got seen in during the manga. I want to cover as wide a variety of those as possible, hence the sudden change in tone. Hope it's credible.

Note: Cassian's final line is really a lyric from Company of Thieves' Oscar Wilde. The song is at the tumblr link in my profile.


	7. Timshel

**Timshel**

_Cold is the water  
It freezes your already cold mind  
Already cold, cold mind  
_**_And death is at your doorstep  
And it will steal your innocence  
But it will not steal your substance_**

_You are everything to me._ What did Cassian intend for that to mean, and what does it mean to me? _Everything to me_, father was everything. He built the world I lived in, and everything that ever existed in it was by his choice and grace. Everything, including Cassian. My hands fist in the carpet beneath my cheek. I feel the nails dig into my palms, which become slick and red. Soothing.  
Father clearly was not as omnipotent as he'd claimed, otherwise he never would have brought Cassian into Delilah. I'd laugh at that, if I still felt enough life in me. At those final moments in that cursed Tower Babel, and on strange nights in the months after Cassian left, I did consider that father could die and I could be free. I feel my sister's lungs heave and my heart speed. Did I even know what I was thinking, wanting to leave? Father's organization and the mad world he built had been _everything to me_.  
Certainly it was easy and selfish for Cassian to poison my mind with thoughts of freedom and even of being loved. It must be so easy for him, who has known the outside world. I feel my eyes sting and immediately think of Cain's eyes. That hate meant everything to me, when there was father to notice it. I want that hate to mean more, I want to hate that devil Cain further. I want to lay the full blame for the misery I feel now on him. The misery of having again been on the cusp of happiness, only to see it killed before me.  
Empty as it is, I feel my stomach try to vomit with old memories and guilt. _Snark. Sisters._ And now Father. Every time father ripped what I cared for from me, I wondered what I did to cause it. But this time it was Cassian who did that, and I wonder, am _I_ the one who _choose this_? I want to blame Cain, but this time it was Cassian. It's Cassian who robbed everything from me, and Cassian who now is the only familiar bit of the world that remains: _everything to me_. And I know I am far too weak to survive having the choices that run through my mind: between freedom and obligation or future and past, let us say.  
Because I can't distinguish between good and evil.

_But you are not alone in this  
_**_And you are not alone in this  
_**_As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand  
Hold your hand_

Was that too much? Was I selfish? I heard the Doctor's screams, and was relived. Relived because it meant he finally knew Riff- _my Riff_- was innocent. And then I felt shame, because even if I hold no love for my brother I still remember his story. Back then I could tell myself that the one whom used him and took his chance at happiness, or at least sanity, was Alexis, not me.  
But now, as I see Cassian speak with Mary - and can only think of Riff- I realize that I just got that choice: between my brother and myself. Between saving myself, or another. I can't say it's between good and evil, but what else do I call it?  
I want to say that this is for Riff, but it's not. Riff is at peace with himself dying, I am not. This was about choosing between my brother's sanity or my own, my brother's lifeline or my own. I hear the sobs from down the hall, I'm sure the whole household hears it.  
The name Cain has never felt so fitting before.

**_And you have your choices  
And these are what make man great  
His ladder to the stars_**

I don't want to leave the hall. If nothing else, I can keep watch in front of that child's chamber door. Because I can't stand the thought that now, with Jizabel so fragile, that Earl might approach him to do Riff's procedure. That Earl will try to use him, with no care for Jizabel in the least. Like father, like son.  
No- that's not right. I had agreed to help Riff, knowing I was agreeing in Jizabel's name. And I lied to Jizabel, but only because I had to. But, with the Card Master, I now wonder: did I kill the Card Master to protect Jizabel or to protect _myself _from losing Jizabel?  
When I made that choice, was I the selfish one?  
After a lot of insisting on her part, I let the kid sister drag me downstairs. I watch that door until the last possible moment.  
I know you don't want to see me right now Doctor, but if I ever was selfish then let me make up for it by watching over you, even if it is from the shadows.  
But can I? Am I really strong enough to keep this up, trying to save myself while also trying to save a man who seems not to notice?  
As I meet the sunlight, after stepping out their front door, I wonder how long I can survive this.  
How long until I finally snap and run away, run away from simply living to save another?

_And I will tell the night  
Whisper, "Lose your sight"  
_**_But I can't move the mountains for you_**

_"The Hebrew word timshel—'Thou mayest'—that gives a choice. For if 'Thou mayest'—it is also true that 'Thou mayest not.' That makes a man great and that gives him stature with the gods, __**for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice**__. He can choose his course and fight it through and win." - from _East of Eden

* * *

Those beautiful lyrics are from Mumford and Sons' Timshel ( tumblr). The Passage is from Steinbeck's East of Eden.  
I guess that this little thing is something of an interlude, just meant to give a set- up of the character's mental states for next chapter.  
Much thanks to BKtem, my one reviewer for this story!


	8. May God's Love be with You, Always

**May God's Love be with You, Always**

It's strange to say the least, getting dragged to sit at a bench near the roses by a little girl I wouldn't have thought twice about killing back when I was the Doctor's assistant. We sit there quietly, despite being inside London the gates and walls around the property are high enough to block the city out. It figures the Hargreaves could burn their houses down and still afford a nice place like this. The little girl and I both stare at the gate until she speaks up:

"You're a friend of Cain's, like Crehador, right sir?" Cain really has kept his little sister out of the loop, I don't want to be the one to correct her.  
"Cassian. I'm Cassian. I guess you could say I'm something like that, though don't go asking your brother about me, alright kid?"  
She nods and perks up to look at me, speaking fast and cheerful at first:  
"My name's Mary Weather. I don't talk to Cain about these things, that's what Oscar is for. But... This time Oscar doesn't know, and Cain seems really worried. I want to know, so that I can help my big brother. But when I ask about Riff, which is why I think he's so worried, Cain just seems more sad. So, maybe you can help me, Cassian? You can let me know what's going on, I promise I won't let Cain know what you say." She has those same sincere pleading eyes all kids seem to. The Doctor has them too, sometimes. It hurts too much, to remember his pain while still carrying my own.

"Look Mary, I'd love to help, but what makes you think I even know?" She taps her fingers as if counting.  
"Well- for one, if you came home with my brother that day it means you know about father's organization. It probably also means you were fighting it, but at the same time you brought the Doctor with you. You're the entire reason we're helping the Doctor, because he's important to you and you're a friend of Cain. So if you are a friend of Cain but also care about the Doctor, that means... you were once a part of father's organization? And if you were with them, then maybe you were there while they had Riff, and you know-"  
I interrupt before she starts rambling too fast.

"I was with those people, but not at the same time as Riff. Hey, don't look so glum. I do know what's wrong with him, but only your older brother can fix that."  
"Who, Cain?"  
"No, your other brother. He has a name you know, Jizabel Disraeli, so stop calling him just Doctor." She starts tying little knots in a blade of grass she plucked, speaking in a quite manner:

"I think we both know very different people."  
"Hm, what's that mean Mary?" I want this conversation to go on, so I have an excuse to stay outside. My entire routine for these last days revolved around staying at Jizabel's bedside. I'm not real sure I know any other places to stay in this house.  
"Well, what I mean is... he's dangerous. From what happened this morning, I can tell he's not dangerous to you.  
But he's dangerous to everyone else here. I know he's my half brother, but when I see him the only thing I'm able to remember is the monster he's been to us." Yeah, I guess Jizabel is going to be getting that problem a lot from these people.  
"That's too bad, Mary." When I turn my head back to check on his window, I see Jizabel for a moment. He's gone as soon as he notices me watching. I can't even get him to meet my eyes now. I gambled everything on saving that man, and almost did everything right, and got nothing in the end. And unlike Jizabel, there's no one standing there ready to catch me.

_I pictured you in the sun wondering what went wrong_

_And falling down on your knees asking for sympathy_

**_And being caught in between all you'd wished for and all you've seen_**

**_And trying to find anything you can feel that you can believe in_**

I stay outside long past when Mary goes back into the house, and long past when some of the braver maids start asking why I'm outside, if I'm waiting on anyone. I just tell them _yes, I am_. When Jizabel leaves to gather the organs, he's going to have to walk through the front gate. And I can't just let him slip away, even if that's what he wants to do. But he'll do that at night, and its hours until then.  
In the meantime I'll get a drink -God knows I need scotch now- and a book. Maybe that book will give me something to talk about with Jizabel, once we're talking to each other again.

I walk past that older man in the wheel chair on my way to get the scotch, he gives me a bit of a look. I say Cain said I could have it, he doesn't believe me but he doesn't call me out on it either. Not getting hassled over smoking and drinking is one of the best parts of looking like an adult. I fill my flask and go off to wait at the library.

It's the same as the library of any of the nobles' houses where the Doctor and I worked. The shelves are lined with all the classics that every good English school boy has read. I'm sure the Doctor and his brother have them all memorized, but me, I've only ever heard some of the books' names. I take a swing from my flask, and look at the shelves for a good place to start.

_"Love, Death, Failure and Rebirth: the Myths of Ancient Greece"_

"Love, Death, Failure and Rebirth" That's a pretty fitting title for my life right now. I pull the book down and flip it open, thinking back on love, death and rebirth.  
Love: when was that? The last time I remembered love it was bitter and about my parents, from before I knew any better. I'd thought I was completely over love, until I found myself getting skewered by Cassandra's sword to save _him_.  
Death: It's funny, but right then for all the blood loss and and the pain and the gaping hole in my chest, the only thing I could think about was how sad and alone Jizabel looked. And how just maybe, I'd like a second chance. Not to get an adult body and not to get my life back, but so that I could try to save him, or at least make him a little less sad. And that was funny, too; because I'm a criminal and not the type of guy that has selfless thoughts like that. I wondered just what meeting that kid had made me into.  
Rebirth: I never thought that God -or the Devil- would finally ever listen to me and grant that second chance. Waking up in a gutter wasn't exactly new to me, but the body I was in was new to me. Well, not exactly new so much as not mine. Gladstone's. It was Gladstone's. That's the sort of thing that only happens in horror stories and some nightmares, waking up as someone you know doesn't deserve to live. I was furious, tearing through my coat pockets and wondering if the Doctor was laughing somewhere thinking of this all as a joke.  
Right then, in my fury and rage, I found it: the first miracle in my violent life, a simply folded elegant letter in Jizabel's penmanship reading _Cassian, leave. If I see you again, I will kill you_. There was a train ticket and quite a few pounds there in my pocket, too. Jizabel was _saving **me**_. The second miracle: I cried then, for the first time since I stopped being a child, and for someone other than myself I cried. Jizabel had chosen my freedom and my future over his own. Did he really value himself so little?  
Broken and mad as he is, he's still an angel. That's what he is: _my_ angel. So I will be his.  
That's when it hit me, that there are some very important words that have been left out of that book's title: devotion, and sacrifice.

_I know I would apologize if I could see your eyes_

**_'Cause when you showed me myself, you know, I became someone else_**

**_But I was caught in between all you wish for and all you need_**

_I pictured you fast asleep_

_A nightmare comes_

_You can't keep awake _

Orpheus and Eurydice, of all the stories in that book, I had to read about Orpheus and Eurydice. I slam the book shut and leave it on the ground, it's dark outside when I look up. I scramble to the front door, running past Mary. I'd have ignored her if she hadn't spoken up.

"Cassian! Cain and the Doctor already left. Cain said they wont be back until late, so we should eat dinner without them."  
"They're already gone?" Mary nods a _yes_. She yells _wait, aren't you having dinner_ as I turn to go down to the cellars.  
I slam the door behind me; I can't believe how thoroughly Jizabel is trying to cut me out of his life. Let's see if that Earl's even able to follow the Doctor's commands. Jizabel won't find anyone damn near as willing as me to stick their hands in a body cavity for him.

I finish making my way down the stairs, matches and oil lamp in hand. I never knew cellars could be made so warm and luxurious, but it somehow figures the Earl would do that for Riff. Lucky dog, at least one of us gets noticed.  
Of course how warm and nice the cellars now are completely passes over Riff. That would be because he's in something of a comma, has been for the last few days. I'd like to just finish my scotch and toss a few knives, but there's no time for that. The Doctor likes his surgeries prepped just-so.  
So I start: iodine on Riff's deathly skin, lamps bright and set to focus, instruments all set on a metal tray, mask and gloves and a glass of cool water for when the operation is over.  
There's not much to do afterwards. But Riff's still unconscious, and that makes him a great guy to talk to.

"You know, Mister Corpse, this whole mess I'm in is all your fault. He won't even _talk_ to me now. Jizabel's kind of a brat, isn't he? You know, even if I looked like one, I was never any good with kids... Maybe you can save him, you're cut out for that after all. I mean, if you saved his brother, it's only fair you save him too. Because I don't think I'm cut out for this. He needs to be saved, but Ive never saved someone else. When I saved myself it was only by sticking a knife in the ringmaster's back and slitting that bitch's throat. I get the feeling that approach won't work this time.  
He needs to be saved, but this whole damn thing sounds just like some fairy tale; I'm way to old for fairy tales.  
...And there's this one thing that bothers me a lot, those fairy tales never tell you what happens when the hero fails. So what happens to me, if things go wrong the one time I've put what's left of my heart on the line?  
See Riff, that's why this has to be your fault. Because either it's your fault, it's mine, or it's his. It can't be my fault, because I'm already being as selfless as I can, and if its his fault-  
When its your fault is the only time I don't get hurt. Damnit, Jizabel, you're a brat. Don't you know that when one of us gets left behind, the other does too? I can't make it out of this dark alone... You're my reason to be a better man."

The door opens and the smell of blood and warm viscera fills the room. I look up at them. Cain seems like he's seen something he wishes to forget, and Jizabel just stands there bloodstained and staring at the floor.

"Well it was nice talking to you, Raffit." I bump shoulders with Jizabel as I go back up stairs; he won't even look at me.

_May God's love be with you_

_Always..._

**_May God's love be with you_**

* * *

Lyrics are from In the Sun by Joseph Arthur (at my tumblr); I declare this the official song of Cassian/Jizabel. Such a pretty song...  
Next chapter is this, from Jizabel's perspective.


	9. Between All I Wished for and All I'd See

**Between All I Wished for and All I'd Seen**

Despite how things change, or more so how for a few days I thought they had changed, waking always feels the same, knowing you are someone who doesn't deserve to be alive. Her lungs and my heart have settled now, leaving me in the wreckage to consider what must be done. I can't sort through this alone; I need _somebody_ to talk to. I let my hands drift down to where my sisters, their lungs and kidneys, are. I need help. My voice comes out timid, afraid I will annoy them.  
"...Sisters, will- could you listen to me for a moment?" They will, they can't get away from me after all. What a sordid fate.  
"Do you remember the father's ghost. Not _our _-well, _my_- father but the one in this book, Hamlet. You most likely know it, everyone does, but in case you don't ... It is a book about a boy who's father, the king, is killed. The boy has to be a good son and avenge his father, or the father's ghost will follow him until he goes insane. But there is a problem: the one who killed his father is important to him, maybe the most important person he has. He is too weak to do anything, so then everybody has to suffer and die because of that boy -he dies, too- because he was so stupid and ugly and weak that he couldn't do anything on his own.  
So someone else did everything for him, and now he has to hate them for it. He... Has to be a good son, and avenge his Father.  
What do you think of that story, Sisters? It... is so awful, but everything in it seems familiar, so I like it. Do you?"

They don't answer me, my sisters never do.

"I understand if you don't want to talk to me anymore. Please tell Mother that I'm sorry for what I said before and... give her my best regards."  
After our conversation is over, the silence terrifies me, so I throw out whatever words I find floating in my mind:  
"Our Father, who are in heaven, hallowed be Your Name. Your Kingdom come. Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."  
I never realized I still knew those words, nor did I know what would spill from my mouth when I opened it.  
I scrape myself off the floor, to watch the gardens below my window.

_I don't know anymore_

_What it's for_

_I'm not even sure_

**_If there is anyone who is in the sun_**

**_Will you help me to understand_**

As evening draws closer, I've pulled myself together. I must admit I do look quite civil: shirt neatly tucked and buttons all done, concealing my glass crucifix. After all, it is not something the world must see. I plait my hair back knowing what I will be doing this evening and not wanting it to fall into a body cavity, again. The only thing I can do until he arrives is wait. Waiting on others is all I ever seem to do, and I hate myself for it. Because then all I can do is think. And I don't know why I care, for any of it. I didn't expect myself to care for anyone besides Father ever again, until...  
Until I realized that Cassandra's blade had not gone through my body, but Cassian's. When Cassian claimed he'd save me, I was so certain he was simply thinking of his own past. What else could it be? But now I had to believe him, didn't I? I knew that he would fail at no fault of his own. It was my fate that was predetermined.  
I thought to myself at that moment that even if it means nothing in the end, there is an aching comfort in knowing that someone had tried. As he laid dying, I may have spoken more than I had ever meant to. But most dangerous of all was what I thought. For a moment, Cain and his Riff did not seem so foolish in their belief in unconditional love. I am a sick, ugly person and yet someone had thought I was worth dying over. Now, **_I _**don't believe in such a thing as unconditional love, but what else can I call that?  
What followed is still a blur to me, though I know it was the most meaningful choice of my whole hopeless life.

It is hardly easy to perform a theoretical procedure against the clock. Luckily, for whatever reasons, Zenopia was as invested in it's success as I was. The difficult part was convincing him to declare Cassian dead. He agreed surprisingly soon, considering that such a declaration would mean a black mark to his area of interest.  
It hurt, in some amount, to let Cassian go free. However, I did understand why I had to rid myself of him as quick as possible: Cassian _might _matter to me. Seeing the fate of everything I've cared for, I couldn't afford to find out. If my father did not suspect us before, he would have after the transplant. And it would be the same as Snark, as my Sisters and as my Mother. I would have been handed a corpse to hold and then the last fragments of my mind would have left me. I was being selfish, in all honesty, trying to protect myself.

I had to explain to Father what had happened:  
"It was a failed experiment, Card Master. Complications arose after surgery causing an autoimmune reaction against the brain tissue. Brain death occurred and I saw no cause for life support or resuscitation."  
"I guess that's to be expected. You never did think things through, did you little Jizabel?" I bow my head, hair falling in my eyes.  
"Yes, Card Master."  
"There is one thing I wonder, though. Why haven't you kept the body? Certainly you could still have uses for it."  
"It was not suitable. Gladstone was too old and had to many vices to be useable for my experiments, and there was nothing that needed to be learned by dissection. I thought it best to dispose of him and not waste any further time on this issue, Card Master."  
"Good boy, Jizabel." _Good boy, Jizabel _isn't that what I lived for?  
...I let Cassian go free, because nobody was ever supposed to die protecting me and because unconditional love is _not real _and because no one so good should suffer for something as worthless as me.

_If there is anyone who is in the sun_

**_Will you help me to understand_**

_'Cause i been caught in between all I wish for and all I need_

**_Maybe you're not even sure what it's for_**

**_Any more than me _**

**_May God's love be with you, always_**

I'm caught standing in the shadow of the saints, literally this time. I've hidden to the side of a statue of Michael slaying the Dragon. Cain and I have not spoken since we left his manor to gather the blood and viscera. But, I have a plan. Revenge, for his forcing me to choose:  
"Cain, come here?" He doesn't approach, insisting I stay in the shadow while he stands near a street lamp.  
"Doctor, what?"  
"You know Raffit very well, don't you?" he takes a step or two to me, nodding silently. I continue:  
"Good, because I do not know him at all. but because you know him so well, then you could tell which of the people exiting this church are his type." He seems more pale than his usual, and barely speaks.  
"Doctor...what are you saying?" I lick my lips, seeing the blood drain from his face. Good. This is fair, Cain.  
"As with any deadly doll, it is very important for Riff that the organs selected be as close a match to his body and blood type as possible. And you know Riff, so you will select who we harvest from." He is very close to me now, speaking in a whisper.  
" Can- can we go somewhere else, not this church? There are some pubs and docks and brothels-"  
"No, little brother. If we make another trip I won't have time for the procedure. You value Riff, don't you? More than these parishioners. So make your choice, little brother." The strangers all leave their church to go into the winter cold. Cain points dumbly at a man well in his eighties.

"Truly, Cain? If you choose that one, most of the organs will be failing and we will need to gather from at least two more people or Riff may die." Cain looks at me with apprehension and quickly moves to point at a different man. The man is isolated from the crowd. He seems to be a tradesman, fit and with many good years of life still ahead of him. I wait for the crowd to thin and then move, drawing the needle from my pocket and griping the new scalpel Cain gave me. I inject the drug while bumping into him. After that it is easy to drag the dazed man to an ally, Cain following after us. I had not counted on my dosing to be insufficient. The man manages to knee me, getting a lucky hit at my bullet wound. I fall, feeling my jaw slam the floor. Cain ignores this, and uses the blade hidden in his cane to make the kill. I lay on the floor for a few moments, trying to convince my body to breathe normally again. When I get to my feet Cain is staring at the cooling corpse with horror. He is useless, the viscera need to be harvested immediately. I must do that job myself. It is too bad that... Cassian is not with me.

Even carrying all the viscera I still make it to the cellars before Cain. And I hate him for that, because I am left alone to my thoughts. Standing on the other side of that door, I hear a voice that is not my own. It is Cassian's.  
Is Cassian speaking on the other side of that door, or is my mind speaking to me in Cassian's voice? Hearing those words it must be my own mind, because nobody else could feel like this.  
I follow along with that voice:  
"I'm way too old for fairy tales. And this one thing bothers me a lot, those fairy tales never tell you what happens when the hero fails. So what happens to me, if things go wrong the one time I've put what's left of my heart on the line? Will I live through this?  
See Riff, that's why this has to be your fault. Because either it's your fault, it's mine, or it's his. It can't be my fault, because I'm already being as good as I can, and if it's his fault-  
When it's your fault is the only time I don't get hurt.  
I can't make it out of this dark alone... He is my reason to be a better man."  
Again, the words come of their own accord:  
"So please forgive my trespasses, so I may forgive those who trespass against me."

Cain arrives, terribly late, and unlocks the door. Cassian stands by Riff; that _was _Cassian. How could I not have known? This is so much like me: I could only live by consuming snark and my sisters lives, and now I am consuming Cassian's. Just as father intended.  
When he goes by me, I cannot look up for guilt.

**_If I find my own way_**

_How much will I find_

**_Will I find you?_**

* * *

__So... I am now getting close to one of the two (or three) major events for this story...


	10. His Pound of Flesh

**His Pound of Flesh**

_Regrets collect like old friends_

_Here to relive your darkest moments_

_I can see no way, I can see no way_

**_And all of the ghouls come out to play_**

**_And every demon wants his pound of flesh_**

**_But I like to keep some things to myself_**

Being able to sleep in is my token guilty pleasure as of now. No subjects to examine at the break of dawn, no experiments to run, no distractions, unfortunately. When I bury my face in the pillow to avoid the morning rays, the sting in my jaw reminds me of last night's _work_. I try to fall back to sleep because I don't want to -_can't_- deal with any of this. Everything that happens in this world seems to be too soon, too much, too fast for my already frail mind. My stomach groans then, a distraction. I wonder how I will eat if Cassian is not going to serve me? I do not need to eat, any ways. I just want sleep, and the stillness it brings. But I _never_ do get what I want. There is a knock, and my door opens before I can proclaim _leave_.

_How sweet_, it is my little brother, the last thing I need to see. I ignore Cain, even if it has proven to be an ineffective manner of dealing with him.  
"Doctor, I know we are not on good terms-"  
"I know that too, Cain."  
"but I wanted to thank you for saving Riff. You have no idea how much he means to me." Cain came to gloat, about what love he has that I do not. To think he says I have no idea.  
"... So you now want to seem forgiving, Cain?" I get out of bed, unfortunately only in a large blouse that serves as an ill fitting substitute for my yukata. "How do you do it Cain? How have you repressed the memory of that man we killed last night?"  
"... I haven't doctor. And unlike you, I never will be able to."  
"So you intend to live remembering the face of every man we will kill? How quaint."

I lean on the wall, feeling a predatory grin cross my features. I want that grin to be sharp, sharp as my scalpel. Cain neither shifts nor flinches. It is always wise to be still when confronted by any dangerous creature, isen't it?  
"Are you upset because I didn't help when you hit the ground last night, Doctor?"  
_Doctor_, I enjoy hearing my title and not my name whenever I feel like this. It is proud, clean, professional and clinical - _valued_- everything I would like to be. I am glad that name stuck with Cain, just hearing him say it gives me the strength to go on speaking so coldly.

"That was something I knew would occur, Cain; it should upset _you_ because in that moment you learned that you would rather kill an innocent man than help your brother." In this pristine moment I remember all the better times I've had with Cain. I remember how it feels to be the one who is certain and controls an interaction, while someone else stumbles in the dark. I never could find a way to make those times last, if they even ever existed at all.  
"I don't think we need to hold this conversation any longer. I came to talk because I thought it would help you, Jizabel."  
They never did last because all along I was being toyed with, by my brother _and **my** father_. I slam my arm between Cain and the door, _I_ need to have this conversation. And it is my guilty pleasure that... Father is not here to stop me, to save that wicked Cain.

"_Help_? Help so that you don't lose me to myself. Because then who will help that corpse you call Riff...  
Please, _brother_, tell me how is it that you have repressed the memory of killing _me_?"  
Cain shifts, a hand slipping to his pocket.  
" You are insane, Jizabel Disraeli."  
I pin that hand to the wall, for all my illness I am still stronger than a 17 year old noble brat.

"... I know. But you made me this way, so now you have to answer." My voice sounds like it comes from outside my body, cold and soft as it slithers into my head.  
"... I can't unmake anything, so how can I answer?" There is such a pretty melancholy in Cain's voice when he says that, but I don't smile at it.  
"Correct, little brother. You cannot. And neither can I, thus there is at least one thing our uselessness is matched in."  
I release Cain; he moves to go out the door. I have better things to do than stop him.  
The little choir of birds is at my window already, huddled together against the cold. I wish somebody had brought me bread for them.

_And I've been a fool and I've been blind_

**_I can never leave the past behind_**

**_I can see no way, I can see no way_**

_I'm always dragging that horse around_

I keep watch of that third story window from under the brim of my cap. Clipping the shears now and again to seem busy.  
"You're a pretty terrible gardener, Cassian." I'd almost forgotten that the kid sister, Mary, was sitting on the bench near me. I snort a bit before replying:  
"Well, then let's not tell your Uncle that. I need this job, you know." Not so much for the money as for the fact it gives me a disguise and an excuse to stay by Jizabel's window and keep watch on him. Mary walks over to inspect the shrub I've been trimming, or at least attempting to. She doesn't call me out on the fact it's pretty damn far from the little square shape all the other rose bushes have. She does however speak in that sing song voice all children seem to use- which I never used, by the way.

"But as Cain's guest you don't have to pay for food or boarding. Otherwise Oscar would already have eaten himself into the poor house." I snip a leaf or two while talking.  
"That's a pretty crass thing for a lady like you to say."  
"Oh! Sorry... Um, please don't tell Cain. I don't want to be stuck with Aunt Katrina again. But... why else do you want this job? Is it the Doctor? Because the only plants you ever, um, trim are the ones you can see from his window." She's an observant little brat, but that makes sense, seeing how Cain runs around playing Sherlock Holmes.  
"_Hmph_, smart kid. That might be part of it. However I do need the money so I can pick up somethings at the docks-"  
"Can I go with you? Please, Cassian, I haven't been to the docks in ages. Please, I won't tell!" Again, she uses the sing song voice and speaks way too fast.  
"No. I am not getting in trouble for losing an Earl's sister; didn't I tell you I just got this job?"  
"Fine." Mary walks back to the bench and sits with her arms crossed, ignoring me. A young maid crosses the yard to avoid me, they've all done that since yesterday when I asked one of them to bring the doctor his meals. It's all fine by me.  
A red, red rose loses its head when Mary yanks at my sleeve.

"Cassian, look up! You should see him. It just looks so unreal, almost enough you forget that... He looks so much like something from a fairytale that you forget he's so... violent."  
Jizabel stands at the window, palms full of bread and birds, ice blond hair whipped about by the beating of tiny wings. And just like that, he's caught anyone who sees in a spell.  
"Hey, Mary, have you heard any stories about fairies from the northern isles?" The girl shakes her head _no_.  
"You wouldn't want to. For some time, I lived at a port town. Their tales came from those isles. Fairies in those stories are still beautiful creatures, but they're also wicked ones. They live to toy with humans, use them. They said that if you ever saw one, you would be whisked away, never to make it back to the human world." She's still staring at him and his birds, her face somewhere between awe, joy and fear when she speaks quietly.  
"Then that makes him just like a fairy."  
"Stop saying those things about your brother." I've put the garden sheers down to watch Jizabel.  
"It's hard to forget all the Doctor's done... But I guess there's a reason you care about him, isn't there, Cassian?" Like always, the Doctor, Jizabel, _former_ Death looks beatific, and noting less.  
"Yeah, there is."  
"... Well, aren't you going to tell me that story?"  
"No." I get back to work, while Mary glares at my back until Riff comes by. She rushes to him arms outstretched, proclaiming how miraculous it is that he's better so soon. I don't notice much, too busy trimming the roses. They turn to leave, Riff speaking up right then.  
"Cassian,please thank the Doctor for me."  
"Thank him yourself."

**_Our love is questioned, such a mournful sound_**

_Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground_

_So I like to keep my issues drawn_

The day's bloody death streams across the sky, giving the clouds a lovely red shade. Some may call what I am doing watching a sunset. Enough days have passed since Raffit's procedure that I should inquire on him, as a patient. Seven days and a frail deadly doll like Meridiana or a strained one like Mikalia would be failing, but Raffit is unlike them. I never was assigned to manage his maintenance before, at Delilah. That was father's task. However, I do know that he served as the Tower for near a decade, with maintenance procedures being done sparingly. So, he is not as fragile a doll as I am used to monitoring. Thus I do not bother inquiring of him to the terrified maids that bring my meals, and I do not see Cain. It is all the better that I am alone...

Without any other subject to occupy my time, I examine my own wounds. I treat the bullet hole for infection, taking every possible caution so it will not scar - why would I ever desire to remember the Tower? I don't treat my last _gifts_ from father and am even tempted to roll about in filth, so that they may swell and become a raised warm sunset red - just like Cain's scars. Let me belive that father's love for me was the same as his love for Cain. But then Cassian will scold me for all eternity, more so he will be quite upset once he sees those scars. I sigh and mutter to myself. These choices never are easy. I put away my iodine and wrap fresh bandages about my side.

There is a knock at my door. I am composed, and thus proclaim _come in_.  
"Doc- brother, we need to talk. Riff is well now but how long until...?"  
"That would depend on Raffit himself. Send him to see me if you want a concrete answer." Cain speaks from the doorway, not having ventured to come any closer this entire time.  
"I'll do that then, Doctor. And I had meant to thank you, for everything you've done for Riff... And myself." I look back, Cain is sincere, honest in his gratitude for my killing strangers in the streets of London. What... a farce of familial love.  
"...Everything I do and everything I lose, Cain. You can't disregard the last part. I always end up alone because of you. Always." Cain neither rises to the bait this time nor prods further; I am mildly disappointed as he shuts my door while speaking the obligatory.  
"Thank you, Doctor. I'll send Riff up with your supper."  
I am given this reprieve to return to the view at my window: the barren winter tree where the songbirds roost- now and again they open their little coal-black eyes to view me. What are their thoughts like, I wonder? For how cruel the elements are to them, I am ceratian that their thoughts are beautiful and gentle as their songs. They must dream of flight, while I can only wonder of it. Alas, I do not have wings like them.. I look farther, to the gardens and the man that works them in this cold, then past the stately black wrought iron gate, my last sight is the dark London skyline below the dusk.

Again my meditations are broken as the door opens, a polite silver head peeking in. I speak first.  
"What is it, butler?" Riff presses in further while holding silver serving tray aloft between us.  
"I have brought your supper, Master Disareli. It is a light vegetable stew, pumpernickel bread, aged sage derby chees-" I've no desire to keep hearing him drone.  
"I know what food is, servant!"  
"... I understand, sir. However, my name, if you have forgotten, is-"  
"Riff Raffit, I have not forgotten you. You are Cain's Riff, the lap dog, the stooge, the martyr... You are my brother's wings." Riff gives a relived sigh as he lowers the tray to my night stand.  
"So you are meaning to help Lord Cain? That is good. You both no longer need be enemies, now that you no longer have your father's hatred for you to-"  
"Father did not hate me. He was too forgiving to hate me. In the end he was either disappointed... Or was merely indifferent.  
Riff, just come here. I had offered to check on something for my brother."  
It is impressive how mellow Riff is through out my examination, I had anticipated unease; Justice must have put great care into crafting his persona.

"Tell Cain to see me again tomorrow, we need to plan more about this- well, about you actually." Riff speaks while straightening his suit.  
"Master Disraeli, perhaps you would consider joining your family for breakfast tomorrow? You may speak with Master Cain afterwards... Sir Cassian shall be there as well."

**_And I am done with my graceless heart_**

**_So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart_**

I'm surprised when the kid sister comes to start dragging me by the hand in the morning, whining _come eat your breakfast with us, the Doctor is there_. This is a pleasant surprise. But if she planed it, then Mary definately overlooked how panicked her uncle will be to find a pair of "Delilah assassins" at his table.

The only vacant seats at the dining table are beside the Doctor, the rest of his family having prefered to keep some distance. He glances at me from the corner of his eye- when he thinks I can't notice- as I take the seat to his left. Other than that Jizabel spends his time staring at his bowl of porridge while moving its contents from one end to the other with his spoon. I try to only eat the parts of my breakfast that won't upset him. The keyword being _try_. There is only so long that the rest of his family can tolerate taking their breakfast with no conversation. The wheel chair bound uncle speaks up, nervously.

"So, what plans do you have now, lad?"  
"Jizabel."  
"...I am afraid that I do not understand what you are trying to say, my boy." Jizabel sighs and on impulse reaches for the spectacles he no longer has.  
"My name is Jizabel Disraeli, Sir Neil Hargreaves." Neil sputters out his tea. I just watch, because on some level it is honestly hilarious to watch a nobel man with such an aghast expression.  
"That is your _name_? Did my brother honestly name his son _that_?"  
Jizabel stirs his porridge and gives a very bland nod.  
"Yes, I am afraid so." Cain and Mary stare from their uncle to their brother, and back and forth again. After a pause the uncle speaks up again.  
" Would you rather I called you any other name?"  
"...What other name do I have, but this one that our father gave me?" Jizabel's face still seems so flat, however everyone else, including myself, all wear a slight frown. This blows over, like things with Jizabel always seem to. Everyone but the Doctor returns to eating.

Until, maybe in an effort to reach out, Uncle Neil speaks out.  
"Jizabel, lad, you may put portraits of your family up on the walls if you'd care."  
Jizabel pats his lips with a napkin, despite the lack of need for such, before responding.  
" I do not have any." Uncle Neil's expression upon hearing such says he believes he said something terribly wrong.  
"I am sorry, I had not meant to-"  
"No need to apologize, sir. I would not need any trinkets to recall my family. I am reminded of my mother's face by any mirror, and it feels like my sisters are always with me." The Doctor gives a polite smile; I doubt that any one but me can tell just how wretched that smile is. Cain might, from how he winces at seeing it.  
Jizabel arises to leave, giving a polite bow. I catch him by the shirtsleeve and hold out the bowl of porridge.  
"Doctor, please take this and eat it, so you don't end up sick later today." Jizabel nods more slowly this time, before accepting it and going on his way.

**_And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back_**

**_And given half the chance, would I take any of it back_**

**_It's a fine romance but it's left me so undone_**

The honey in the porridge has already congealed from having been left to sit and become cold. No matter. I bring the spoon to my mouth; I can still enjoy the porridge, somewhat. Of all the personal libraries I have been a guest in, this one feels the most grand as I sink into the red velvet arm chair. The Hargreevs' coat of arms is hung in front of me, over the mantel. Only now do I realize how strange it feels that I did not know that crest until now; father never did show it to me. I take another bite of the porridge, wishing I had water for how thick it feels in my throat. My eyes bore into that emblem, searching for any stories or legends I may have heard of my father's family, the Hargreaves. I hastily finish the food Cassian shoved on me. There is nothing that comes to mind. I know nothing more of the Hargreaves than any other Londoner, perhaps even less than nobles like Gladstone. And this should not surprise me as it does; after all, if a nobleman has a bastard son is there any valid reason to show that son the family crest, lest his claims for inheritance be believed? Certainly not; father had always meant for my place to be an obscure one. And it should not bother me to be reminded of that, at all. I set the empty bowl on the window sill- it can be some maid's problem- and continue to stare down that shield as I count the minutes until my appointment with Earl Cain.

"Doctor-" Cain always enters after hardly knocking; it is his house, I suppose.  
"You may call me by my first name, or does it make you uneasy, Cain?" The Earl sighs, shifting his bangs a bit.  
"It makes me uneasy in the same way that cross you're still wearing does, Jizabel...  
You were staring at the crest when I first got here." I look back to that emblem, trying to memorizes the graven details as if it will be taken away, while I speak up.  
"I have never seen it before, Cain." I let my hand rise to sweep through the library, towards the crest. "You inherited all of this, Earl Hargreaves" my hand falls to my chest, over where I know my crucifix to be.  
"And all I got was a reminder of my own guilt to bear. As if I even needed to be reminded of my sins. You got what you did all because you were his sister's son, and I was not." Cain looks calmer than I feel as he hastily shuts and locks the library door, then moving the bowl off the window sill before taking the sill as his seat. We are so very, very close.

"I find you quite strange, Doctor. You are always saying things like this. Claiming to love me when you torture me, and saying you resent me and want me to suffer whenever you decide to help. Frankly, I don't think you understand the meanings of any of those words." He has that arrogant look that just suits him; I run fingers through the ends of my hair.  
"Truly, Cain? I never thought any of it seemed contradictory." His eyes shine, but without malice.  
"Then, please explain, Jizabel." He still speaks my name with an awkward unease. I drum my fingers on the chair's velvet as those cat eyes bore into me.  
"I wanted to keep you alive along as possible, because without you I would become even more meaningless in father's eyes... I think that, maybe the only things I could have done that would give me any meaning would be to save you or kill you... However, if you should die, the same as if he should die, then I would just cease to exist."  
"...Jizabel, father is gone, and belive me that you still exist. But ...if that was what you thought then why were there those times you tried to kill me, or tried to have me kill you?"  
"Would you belive me if I said I wanted to be closer to you? Maybe then I could dissect you and see what it was that made you so special that I was forced to love you...  
I knew, I _lived_ knowing, that father would kill me. If that was the case- and _you_ were the cause- then at times begetting my own end seemed like the nobler decision. Do you remember that line, _whether tis nobler to bear the slings and arrows of fate or in opposing end them? _ I just could never make myself decide which one was correct. "

Cain treats the silence between us like thin ice on a river he is trying to ford.  
"So what do you feel now, without father?"  
"And without Cassian, Cain. You can't forget him... it is solely your fault that I lost them both." And then Cain's face says he has thrown all caution to the wind.  
"Stop being so self-indulgent, Jizabel. Even at twelve I knew better than you. Do you think I would have Riff and that bond you envy so much if I had made it my goal to push others away at every chance?" Cain should know better than to speak to me like this, I am dangerous. The only people who can act so indifferent to danger are those who have known too many or too few failures. And Cain has not felt near enough, not compared to me.  
"I would advise you no longer speak, Cain." Because Earl Cain has not known near enough despair to give him the right to lord over me as he is now.  
"Jizabel, where do you think I would be now if when Riff reached out to me I'd have just run back to father? Do you think that I would be any better off than you? I really can't stand how immature you are for a twenty seven year old man. Grow up, Jizabel." Cain goes on with his pathetic childhood story, trying to make it apply to me. "You know, if you can't try to be an adult for your own sake, then how about Cassian's? It's pretty clear, to everyone but you, that he measures his own success or failure according how well you feel. He's too much like Riff in that respect. No matter how cruel or selfish father was towards you, you have no right to be that way with everyone else. " I recall my anger, and all the hate and ability that made me worthy of the rank of Death in the Major Arcana. Wood splinters, glass cracks and Cain is forced to hold onto me for balance after I slam his back against that window. I can barely stand to look upon Cain's face. Those prefect gold eyes and that smirk with its clear look of superiority that tells me he _is_ worth more than me. Just like in that picture of two year old Cain father gave me when I was ten, his bastard son and some _toy_ to him.  
"I could gouge out your eyes with my own fingers now, Cain. I could push you out this window, faster than you can call your precious Riff."  
And there is that smirk there, still!  
"Great, Jizabel... but where would that leave your precious Cassian?"  
_"Arrgh!"_

**_And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't_**

**_So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road_**

**_And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope_**

**_It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat_**

**_Looking for heaven, I found the devil in me_**

It's new to me, being noticed by merchants as I browse the stalls along the dock. Not noticed by a suspecting glance, but noticed as a valuable person, a customer. This body is still pale enough that while I don't seem like a nobel, I still seem someone with the privilege to work indoors. Maybe I look like a salary man buying for his boss? That's kinda annoying. Whenever I came here before, I was seen as a child or vagabond. Now with tall limbs and freshly laundered cloths, all the merchants beckon for me to go over to buy their wares. Every now and again I hear Edelweiss or see a flash of white, an old ghost from Delilah. It's all a trick of the mind, probably. I am going toward the end of the docks, where the ships from the Far East are, when I feel a small presence trailing me. I turn around expecting the Fool, only to find a far worse sight.

"Mary! What the devil brought you here!? Do your brother and uncle know?" The small girl fidgets with her dress' lace.  
"I- I'd meant to get back home before they notic-"  
"You'd meant? Do you have any idea that you could be kidnapped? Why would a lady of your standing even want to go to the docks, this isen't a playground or zoo for nobles!" she speaks soft enough that I can hardly hear.  
"I had some friends here from before I knew Cain, I thought I might see them again... But I can't find anybody that I knew. I really believed I would, but after Crimone... There's just... no one. That's... that's my father's fault, right?"  
"A lot of what's wrong in London is your father's fault, kid.  
Look, Mary if you're going to be tagging along then keep somewhere I can see you."  
"Okay!" I get more than I'd asked for when Mary grabs me by the hand and rushes to the merchant stalls. At least she's dragged us the right vendor.  
"Cassian, aren't all those Japanese things, pretty? I've just been learning about that country." I'm not that good with kids.  
I turn to speak with the merchant: "Do you have some of those silk dress robes in the right size for someone that is, say, 4 inches shorter than me?" The merchant pulls down a few robes in a variety of patterns. As I look through them, Mary tugs my sleeve and asks  
"Are you getting a Christmas present for Jizabel?" The merchant catches on, looking to make a sale.  
"If it's a lady you are looking to buy for, sir, could I make some recommendations? Is this family or courtship?"  
"No, nothing of the sort. I'm only picking up merchandise for my employer. Please ignore the girl." Mary pouts and the merchant sighs, still wanting to make his sale.  
"I see, sir, and apologize for assuming. But if you do have any lady to buy for may I recommend these? All the young women seem to think that the Asians' little carved wood animals are, I quote, super cute. It is such a cheap gift for a man like you, and sure to charm." It's a bit embarrassing, but the merchant's right. The Doctor does love little trinkets like that. I buy the wares, with Mary commenting which to get all along. Three robes, with maple leaves and pine boughs and birds, and a handful of wooden animals. They're all stuffed in a cotton bag that I take with me as I walk back down the docks, Mary in tow.

I speak up to her, as we walk along.  
"Hey, Mary?"  
"Yes, Cassian?"  
"Do you think you could try to not mention your brother? I'm not talking about Cain."  
"Sorry, I hadn't thought-"  
"It's alright, just don't do it again. I mean it's still a dangerous thing to do, mentioning me and him." With the way Delilah and society are.  
"I won't do it again. I don't want anything to happen to either of you." I pat her head, it's nice being tall enough to do that.  
"I know, Mary, I know."  
We get back to walking, ending up where they vend the workers' food.  
"Oh, look, fish and chips! Cassian, can we get some?"  
"As long as you don't let your brother and uncle know, yes." On our way to buy the food, Mary stops in front of a stand selling Saints' medallions - to Irish dockhands or those takeing ships to New York, probably.  
"I bet he would like the one with a dove! Why don't you buy it for him?"  
"That's not really a dove, you know, but, Mary, I think you're right."

There's not much to do back at the Hargreaves' estate. I put my purchases away, and put the room I'm using in order. But then what?  
I sit at that garden bench, letting time pass by. I'd been watching clouds when I realize there is another guest on the bench, after spotting tendrils of hair the color of birch bark at my side. I shift a bit to see, and notice that Jizabel was watching the clouds, too.  
"Doctor?" He keeps his eyes trained on the white fluff above us.  
"Yes, Cassian?" There's a gentle cadence to his voice.  
"I... I read some books if you want to talk about them."  
"Hm? Which, did you like it?"  
"I think it was Orpheaus and Euridycie, and I hated it." Jizabel turns to look at me, a small pout on his lips.  
"Ah, that is too bad. I love that story; could you tell it to me, Cassian?" I scratch at my head, seeing where to begin. It's odd, that I'm being asked for stories lately.  
"Well, let's see... according to myth, there was once this man, this bard Orpheus. And if you trust those myths, then the world was full of gods that liked to toy with all us mortals. They got a kick out of it, which should sound familiar.  
Now, the interesting part happens when someone very dear to Orpheus dies. You see, back then, Hell or Hades was a tangible place, somewhere you could just walk into. That was just what Orpheus did, and it seems he was a damn good bard, seeing that all the gatekeepers and guards let him in after hearing his sob story. By the time he's at the end of his road, he stands before the King of Hades himself.  
Now, this King, he finds the very idea that a mortal would love someone enough to brave Hell for them laughable, so he can't take Orpheus seriously. The King tells Orpheus that if he takes the road out, certainly Euridyce will follow, all the while thinking it's a lie. Because the King is so convinced that even if Orpheus and Euridyce care for each other, there is no way Euridyce could find the strength to make the difficult journey back to a world he had made her forget. And on top of all that, to toy with them further, the King says that if either should speak or look back then he'll keep them apart forever.  
Euridyce and Orpheus just leave and go back to the world of the living then, because it turns out that the King had a bad habit of underestimating everyone but himself."  
There's a soft chuckling to my side, as the Doctor covers his mouth with his hand.  
"That... is like no version of the _Tragedy_ of Orpheus and Euridyce that I can recall, Cassian. But... I belive I will remember yours, even if you have not remembered any of the Greeks'."  
"I didn't forget, Doctor. I just told you I hated theirs."

_**And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back**_

* * *

Well, once this is done I belive I'll have written a novella. This ended up rather long, and even then it only covers half of what I'd wanted it to...

lyrics are from Shake It Out by Florence + the Machine, with a few changes so they match the story's tone.

In Orpheus and Euridyce's myth, they fail.  
But, here, in my story, it seems both Cassian and Jizabel have a habit of changing literary works when they tell them. Go figure.


	11. Your Godless Brother, in Love

**Your Godless Brother in Love**

Cassian's steps echo after mine on the cobblestone. There's a distorted familiarity in them -steps heavier than they should be- a constant reminder of the changes I now must find a way to live with. I still order Cassian about as if he were my assistant, a habit too deeply ingrained, whenever we go out on these trips.  
London streets always feel the same with their fog, regardless of the passing of days, seasons and tragedies. The tower is still on the horizon, though I am told that London authorities will not allow any to approach.  
So I see no reason to bother; for the first time, I am on the outside of that world. There is no way to know where the remains of Delilah -nor even my own father's remains- are as of now. I'm certain Moon saw to him, with those Romani prayers. I quicken my pace as a light rain begins.

"Cassian! Hurry along, the smith is this way."  
There I go again, barking out orders. Though I suppose it cannot be so bad, seeing that Cassian still persists in accompanying me to buy the wares I need. Obtaining the materials to construct a transfusion device for Riff is a small challenge. Particularly when people decide to be nosy about why I would need so much glass, copper and steel; or about who I am. As I've said it is only a small challenge.  
I know how to adopt a new persona and spin an alibi, well enough that half my purchases can be bought with strangers' charge accounts. The remaining purchases are made at Cain's expense, fair given that I am doing this work for him.  
I stop walking when I see the doors of the steel shop before me, turning back to look at Cassian.

"Doctor?"  
"Cassian... I shall attempt to make this purchase on one of the organization's accounts: Saint Lucia Research-" My shoulder is grabbed as Cassian shoves us both into a stone alcove.  
"You can't honestly be serious about that, Jizabel." My back's pressed against the cold wall while Cassian speaks with his voice low by my ear. With luck, no one will intrude and believe that we are being _indecent_.  
"Why not, Cassian? It is what I have always done before." There's a deep groan from his throat and a muttered _son of a bitch_.  
"Don't act this dense when I know you're not, Doctor. You've been making charges to accounts we don't own, as if Scotland Yard won't notice. And now you want to charge _**those** people_ as if they won't notice. Why are you still courting danger like this now?" _Now that we finally got away_ goes unspoken, but I know it is there from the anger and frustration in Cassian's voice. When I turn to look into Cassian's eyes- now a pale blue that I am still trying to lose my fear of- there is only a very tired frustration, no anger at all. By some strange impulse, I press my cheek against him. Cassian's skin, _his_ body imparts some protection from the bite of the winter winds as I speak.

"I am sorry, Cassian, but it is such a habit. All I know, truly..." I feel a gloved hand hold my chin and tilt it up. That hand feels warm, too.  
"Stop it, Jizabel. Every time I ask something, that line is all you say. It's a cheap excuse... I'm not saying it isn't true, but it's not enough for me to help you. You need to give me something more to work with. Meet me half-way, you owe me that much at least. I'll stand by you, Jizabel, but you can't just not even try." Cassian whispers the last part into the shell of my ear far too tenderly for it to be a threat. The unnecessary gentleness that he reserves for me has not gone unnoticed, but right now there are more pressing matters- like the bustling London that surrounds us. When his hand falls from my chin I speak, again.  
"If I were to make these purchases all at once with the Earl's accounts, surely Delilah would notice. They are no doubt still watching Cain." Cassian cringes at my carelessness in saying _Delilah_ aloud, but otherwise allows me to continue speaking: "I need these materials at once, and it is simple enough to use others' accounts for purchase."  
"But why use Lucia? Don't you think they'll notice?" Cassian's eyes look heavy, like he's carrying enough worry for the both of us. That is not truly fair, is it? I almost reach out for him but stop.  
"Lucia is the Hermit's account. He is a bit... out of sorts, and fails to keep track of his purchases. Besides, even if the old coot did notice, I don't think he would actually report me..." He sighs, I feel breath cause my hair to ripple.  
"You've picked the worst time to start trusting anyone from back there, Jizabel. But, I can't change your mind, can I? So, how do we do this? Who are we this time?"  
I shift to pull out the replacement spectacles Cain bought me, rectangular things completely unlike my old pair.  
"I am Doctor Miles Redford, understudy at Saint Lucia Research Hospital. And you, sir?" Cassian steps back, tipping his hat.  
"Well, me? I guess I'm just John Blair, I simply mind the supplies for you, Doctor."  
"Shall we go in now then, my friend?"

**_Godless brother in love,_**

**_You might as well lay down that rose_**

**_And fold the flag_**

This is all too much like old times, back at Delilah. Times that I don't ever want to go back to. Jizabel, or Miles or however I'm supposed to call him, goes sauntering over to the man who runs this iron works. He does a flawless impersonation of a shy and fresh-faced young doctor placing his order, explaining the schematics of a device he would like. All the identities he fakes are the same type:Blanchette , Hathaway, Redford and all the others I forgot to name. It's _almost_ sweet, watching him smile and gesture as he gives over his plans for the steel. It would be sweet, if it weren't for the danger of being caught by Delilah or Scotland Yard.  
And if it weren't for the fact that, from the doorway I'm watching at, every scene Jizabel acts out looks like it could have come straight out of the life he _should_ have been allowed to have. He jauntily points to me while speaking with the shop keeper, I smile and nod. After that we're done.  
Jizabel joins me outside the shop, grinning like the cat that got the cream when he opens his mouth.

"Our purchase will be delivered to a warehouse near here. The Earl can send his people to retrieve it in a few days' time. After this, we are done with procuring materials and may proceed to... later phases of the procedure." I speak up, feeling much less satisfied and excited than he is.  
"Jizabel, kid, you've got to find less dangerous pastimes." He chuckles a bit, turning to face me.  
"Cassian, you know this can't be helped. It is our best option, correct?" A man saying those words shouldn't grin like Jizabel does now.  
"Yeah, sorry about that, Doctor." I had really hoped that the Doctor's blatant lack of self-regard would end once his ties with Alexis were gone, but it seems I don't get that sort of luck. Still, maybe he's better; maybe he'll actually start trying to get better, so long as its his best option.

"Cassian? I need to become familiar with the docks near Thames and the working quarters of London. Would you be kind enough to show them to me?" Jizabel glances to me and bites his lip, more used to giving orders than making requests I think. It's good to see he's trying to learn.  
"Sure, Jizabel. When?"  
"Immediately, I thought that was obvious." Like that, he's back to being the Doctor.

Getting about working class London is easy right now, with the crowds being unusually polite. A man tips his hat, and I'm pretty sure that gesture was meant for Jizabel. Even if I'm the one in _Lord_ Gladstone's body and he's a bastard son, Jizabel always seems the refined one between us.  
Fine by me, I wouldn't want to seem like a lord anyways. Being seen as the boy's assistant by the people who pass us by is perfectly alright with me. _A__lmost _like things should be. I stop in my tracks behind Jizabel as he comes to a halt in front of a building. He's been doing that this whole time, scrutinizing and stareing down shops, schools and churches. I try not to wonder why the Doctor's doing all of this, I don't want to think of him as something sinister. This time it's a bakery that Jizabel's stopped in front of.

"Would you like to get something to eat, Cassian?" I nod _yes_ and we go over to the bakery. I get the door for Jizabel- he is the noble man here- but the Doctor takes too long staring at the nearby ally, leaving me holding the door for no one and looking rather silly at it.  
The inside of the bakery is filled with loaves of bread and a simple warmth.  
It's old walls are nearly free of decoration, unless you think of the pastries and their price signs as ornaments. I greet the man behind the counter with a curt nod, like any other customer would. Everything that's set out on the counters is common fare: meat pies, loaves of bread and sweet rolls. There are some illustrations of cakes, with it written bellow that they make those on request. I'm considering ordering for the Doctor and myself, when the door cracks open and Jizabel walks in to stand besides me.  
He doesn't nod, or bother to greet anyone but me in the least. That must make him seem even more like some fortunate son, as the clerk who had ignored me now rushes over to ask Jizabel what he'll have. Jizabel asks for a rather modest sweet roll with water before turning to me:  
"Cassian, what will you have?" I turn away from the baked goods to regard him.  
"I'll just take the same as you, Doctor." His mouth goes to a small line before he speaks again.  
"You were staring at the meat pies. Please don't give up something you'd enjoy just because of me. It is... too much."  
"Whatever you say, Jizabel. A pie, then."

He speaks up again as we eat while sitting at a canal's edge. Jizabel's used the lion's share of his meal to feed pigeons, rats and Thames' fish.  
"Cassian... Every now and again, I think of father, and of what you said and of him... and what you did. You do not have to respond to this; actually, please don't say a thing. Just... know this, please."  
I nod; he smiles as a pudgy bird waddles over to eat a raisin at his side. Any confession Jizabel gives me is treasure and gold, seeing how it took my dying to save him _just_ to get him to give the first.

_She has money and that broken freedom,_

_All her kids __**run down the road**_

**_With no memories at all_**

Simple is good, always.  
Choosing to do this lets me make a chaotic process simpler, easier to keep track of. The transfusion machine, once delivered and assembled, will make performing Riff's procedures a quick matter. I fidget with the stitches of my borrowed overcoat on the way back to Cain's manor, quite deaf to the world around me. Delilah's transfusion machines gave the possibility to work solely with blood, increasing the population of acceptable donors. That advantage makes it possible to kill in a more unpredictable manner, very useful for anyone wishing to avoid detection. Besides that, a blood transfusion is less time consuming and risky than full organ transplants. Like I said, simpler.  
I will need to argue these points convincingly if I am to get Cain to construct such a device. He ought to know the house better than I, and have some hidden location where it could be kept without fear of a servant or his family stumbling upon a mass of steel and blood. A hand grabs my wrist, and I stop walking. It is Cassian, probably. After all, who else would do such?

"Doctor, the manor is right there."

I nod dumbly as I go through the heavy iron gate. Cassian and I walk in through the front door without bothering to knock; after all, this is also our house?  
There are voices in the library that go silent as we pass through the halls. One belongs to Cain, and the other is not completely unfamiliar. I swing open the library door, my current ennui getting the best of me. When that door opens I am faced with my brother and the taller brunet man that is his guest. Cain is the first to break the silence, as Cassian stands guard behind me.

"I'll speak to you later then, Crehador."  
_Crehador_, now I see where I knew that voice from: Dominic Crehador, the medium my father "recruited" into the rank of the Magician for the ceremony. That man, Crehador my recognize me as well from the suspicion that fills his face when he sees mine. It is partially out of humor, and another part to see the hurt in his face at being reminded of the cage he's in, that I speak the following with a bow:

"Glory unto thee, Magician."

I greet him as one card to another, and he storms out in a mess of thundering footsteps with his cape thrashing behind him. Crehador pauses by me, and takes the time to spit in my direction, before proceeding in his furious march out the front door.  
The whole time Cain scowls at me, while Cassian switches between glaring at Crehador and me. They both stand there with the unspoken question of _why do that, Jizabel _written very clearly on their faces. I give my silent answer in the form of shrugging before I go up the stairs to my room. Again, there is not much to do there at my too empty desk.

The knock at my door pulls me out of the world of papers and notes and schematics that I had been wandering through, trying to recreate from memory. I mutter _enter _automatically, a habit still left over from having Cassian as an assistant at my labs. A habit that started just so I could save face when he'd barge in regardless of what I said.  
The door opens and closes and I look up to see Cassian standing by my desk with a brown paper bag and a pair of apples.

"You're a very difficult man. You know that, Jizabel?"  
Cassian puts the bag and one apple down on my desk, while he tosses the other apple between his hands like some toy ball. Cassian always said something like this back at Delilah, either after our missions or just because.  
"I know I am... I'm sorry for the trouble." And I've never replied like that before, but this time it just felt natural- like if it was, as they say, the _right thing_ to do.  
Cassian's warm laughter breaks up what threatened to become a somber mood.  
"If you're actually saying sorry over it, that's a major step forward, kid." I laugh, sigh and rest my head on my desk. I shut my eyes and just listen to that voice, with it's deeper pitch and greater resonance than back at Delilah. Now when Cassian speaks, he genuinely seems adult in something other than the bitter way he used to view the world.  
"So I am still the child, Cassian? Aren't you going to scold me? Do you not want to interrogate me over why I've acted as I have, bothersome as it is?"  
Cassian stops playing with that green apple and finally takes a bite out of it.  
"If I scold you a millionth time, it still won't sink in. You're stubborn like that. And if I interrogate you over why you act like you do... Well, you'll tell me when you're ready, won't you Jizabel?"  
I perk my head up to watch, feeling the same awe I do whenever I realize that someone has such honest belief in some good in me. I myself am now _trying_ to believe.

"Be careful about having such faith in me, because-  
what if in the end I can't even meet you half way, and then all your faith just leaves you empty handed?"  
There is no easy way to tell someone that you may or may not need_ you should consider having a life beyond me, for your own sake_. Cassian just nudges the second apple towards me.  
"It's really alright, Jizabel. Even then I'd still choose to be standing right here, waiting for you- if waiting is all I can do. Now, why don't you go ahead and eat?  
Oh, and by the way that bag has some trinkets for you. Your little sister insists that they're your Christmas presents, so don't open it for another week or two."

My curiosity's piqued by that drab paper bag, now that I know Cassian got me _something_.  
I ignore everything around me save for that unassuming bag. I even ignore it when Cassian ruffles his hand through my hair. It is all I can do to keep my hands still, as I wait for him to leave so that I may pour out the bag's contents.  
Trinkets, like he said: yukata and netsuke. They are humble gifts, but thoughtful ones. Or at least ones that show I was considered: the yukata has print of birds in forests, and none of the netsuke are made out of bone. There seems to be no other hidden message in the selection of trinkets, and no motive beyond a simple act of kindness. They are completely innocent gifts. Not a fur coat, no steak dinner, _not the bodies of my mother and sisters_. They are just innocent gifts, not meant to me pull into some mental game. I think of how it has been more than a decade since life could seem this simple, and my thoughts sting.

**_You can hear them on the hilltop laughing,_**

**_Cursing every bird in the air,_**

_Telling her what fun they're having, driving eyes closed_

"I've spent well over a decade working with technology a century ahead of what you know, Cain. _Just_ that this does not seem simple to you does not mean that it is not, indeed, simple. Now just step out the door, we must leave while it's still morning if we want to be done with the assembly by nightfall." Cain raises a brow and sits on the chaise of his waiting room before responding to me.  
"That is not what I've taken issue with, Doctor. The problem is that you want to build that... Blood machine in my home, while I'm trying to hide what we're doing." I straighten my coat's lapels and sit beside him.  
"Well, Cain, the transfusion device does not _need_ to be at this house, but simply on one of your properties. A property that is not trespassed on, where we could do Riff's procedures. And I will require some aid in the device's assembly." Cain shifts while eying the grandfather clock against the wall in contemplation.  
"I see... Then we'll use the old home, the one I had to burn down. The cellars survived the fire, and I have the only key. Should we go and put together your machine now?" I arise, ecstatic to finally have a decent task to waste my time on, though nothing compares to my old research.  
"Yes, let's !" Cain stands and slips on his overcoat.  
"Jizabel, shouldn't we bring along Cassian? It just seems like he'd be more familiar with these machines than I am. And better at carrying around steel." I grab a scarf before getting ready to open the door.  
"I... would feel more comfortable not getting him involved in these sort of things, again."  
"I understand, Doctor."

The sun has gone low enough in the sky that you can see Venus through evening's lavender haze, by the time we emerge from the Hargreaves' cellars. I stand in the burnt ruins, now overtaken by ivy, waiting for the smell of mechanic's oil and metal to clear from my nostrils. I wait for Cain to emerge from the cellars; he may simply be wasting time in hopes that I decide to complete tonight's remaining work alone. How childish.  
I knock on the cellar door before opening it to yell down to him.

"Cain, I am doing your Riff a favor. Do not waste my time like this." I sort through my pocket, making sure that both my scalpel and the syringes are present. One syringe is the usual sedative. The other is empty for use in running blood tests, now that we are not so pressed for time. When Cain finally steps out, he is examining his revolver as it is stowed away into his pocket.  
I comment, mildly surprised:  
"Cain, the location we will be retrieving a donor from is hardly dangerous." He looks down at the gun, not me.  
"That's the issue I'd wanted to bring up, Doctor. We're not going to be getting a don- a _person_ from your location. We'll go to some opium den and try to get someone who won't be missed."  
This too amusing.  
"Do you truly mean that, Cain? Are you willing to risk giving Riff syphilis in order to spare your conscience, because that does not sound very much like love to me." Cain pouts before putting the revolver away to look to me.  
"Then you can use the equipment we just bought to test whatever blood we get. Life isn't about just accepting the choices someone gives you, Jizabel. You can change the paths you're given, or make something new entirely."  
It is my turn to stare incredulous, arms crossed.  
"I would suppose you know all about that, while I don't?  
Very well, Cain. I'll humor you and let you decide what we do tonight, as well as the where and the when."

I lunge at the ruffian's jugular, after being taken by surprise and caught up in a knife fight. Cain doesn't shoot, on my order. The noise would draw too much attention. I'm a bit too slow now, from trying to be deliberate and cut the jugular without hitting the carotid. The jugular avoids the quick, gushing blood loss of a severed carotid.  
The time when I'm pausing to watch where I move is enough for our would-be assailant to land a jagged slash on my palm and forearm. I don't have time to mind it as I rush to clasp that dying man's throat, so that not too much precious red blood is lost.  
I yell out for Cain to bring my syringes and bags to be filled, quickly. I'd neglected to bring disinfectant and bandages, so there is nothing that can be done as the man's blood mixes with mine through the gash in my palm. Once all is finished, Cain and I rush to heave the exsanguinated corpse into the River Thames. Though I do miss seeing London's reaction to strange corpses. Those people still speak of Jack the Ripper as if "he" could be lurking behind the corner. But I have to be a bit more cautious now, without Delilah to cover my tracks.

We make the trek back to the burnt manor, and store all the blood save a single syringe in the cold dry wine cellars. The syringe goes home with Cain and I, so that I may test it, for pathogens and toxins, over the next hour. I lack the motivation to bandage my hand; during the wait for the results a satisfied Cain sits in the plush divan beside me. It's confusing:  
"Cain, what we did now and what we did before are nearly the same. Pray tell, why are you smiling?"  
"It's not the same; this man deserved it, he was a threat to society and would have ruined people's lives. I told you there's a way to make this work, Jizabel." I don't believe it, but I'm much too tired to bother spoiling the boy's mood.

I've nearly dosed off when Cain nudges me proclaiming:  
"Doctor, those gels in the tube have changed color." I put the spectacles back onto the bridge of my nose and let my eyes adjust.

"Cain... I need to be absolutely certain that I am seeing things correctly. What color is the one second to the right?"  
"It's purple, Doctor."  
I feel my voice shift from an extreme soft to loud:  
"God, do you have any idea of what this means, Cain? Do you know what this means about _your_ _genius_ idea? About changing your damned fate, Cain? _My_ fate?"  
Now he is standing in front of me with concern or caution clear on his face, while I remain seated on the divan suspiciously eying the bloodstained gash on my palm.

"It means syphilis, Cain. The man you choose apparently had syphilis . That means we have to throw all that blood out, and also...  
It means that _I_ have that disease because of you... _You_ finally have suceeded killing _me_, Cain, and- _and I am not at peace with that_! Not this time, Cain..."  
"Jizabel, are you sure? There- there has to be something we can do. Could your tests be wrong? We could try them again, then -"  
"...Just- just bring me your collection."

"But... they're all poisons-"

"I know that! God, what do you _think_? That I am about to try to kill myself, again! I- I am not.  
Your precious collection is the only chance I have to stop this disease from spreading through my body...  
Bring arsenic acid and aniline. React them at ratio of one to one, dissolve the product ten to one in water...  
Now, Cain!"  
I do not need to speak twice as Cain rushes out of the room leaving the door ajar behind him.  
He must want to escape my company... or maybe he actually _cares_ about not killing his brother, despite what his name is. He might even feel guilt over inflicting this on me, _might_.  
The most calming thing I can bring myself to do is pace in the foyer while wringing my hands. My own panic is enough to blind me and leave me numb to outside stimuli. I feel shock when someone's arms encircle me, though I know it is Cassian even before the softly muttered _calm down_.

"Get away from me, at once!"

I spin about and clutch my torn palm to my chest, not wanting to let the situation become any worse by spreading the disease to _him_. Cassian throws up his hands in some peaceful gesture and inches towards me, I try to be subtle and not let it show as I back away.

"Jizabel... I won't do a thing you don't want, but your hand's in pretty bad shape right there. Please, just let me see-"  
I swallow the lump in my throat when I feel my back hover against the wall.

"_Don't you dare!_"

Desperate, I press the gash tightly against my chest, as if that could make him forget having seen my blood.  
I've no want to worry someone who is willing to tolerate me with my problems like this; it is a bit wrong _of him_- to just accept me like this. Cassian just keeps his hands up during this stand off, when he speaks it is in a slow and mellow tone.

"Alright, I wont. How about then I just get you antiseptic and bandages? And maybe some whiskey for your nerves? Just take a seat before you pass out." I follow his last command, before stating that I don't want any whiskey. I speak up when Cassian's returned with the bandages and tincture.

"Why is it so hard for me to just apologize and explain these things to you?" I can't look up as I focus on my palm, while I sloppily bandage it, hearing Cassian's response in the background.  
"...I'm not upset with you, Jizabel... having someone to explain things to is new for you.  
And, besides, I saw those microbe tests at the front... I'm guessing something came back pretty bad?  
I'll just sit here with you, while whatever it is your waiting on gets done."  
I cant help speaking up when i feel the seat next to me sink in.

"Why are you dong this for me?" _When I'm so used to facing everything alone _goes unsaid, as always.

"Why wouldn't I want to do this for someone I care about?"

I am finally able to meet his eyes then, but still find myself unable to voice the moronic want drifting through my mind: the temptation to beg him to grant me the warmth that I've just spurned.  
I don't have to beg, as Cassian simply wraps an arm around me as _we_ face the ongoing night.  
I've struggled valiantly, meekly- completely _alone-_ against myself and the rest of world for years, involving another now... is just too much for me to learn, perhaps.

**_Godless brother,_**

**_As far as I can tell _**

**_The night won't compensate the blind_**

* * *

Wow, after this the whole story comes to about 50 pages... I keep saying I'm almost done and then "tiny chapters" balloon to 11 page monsters... thanks to all who've read/ faved/ interacted.

Fun fact: Arsanilic acid was a real cutting edge Victorian medicine, and among the first to be effective against syphilis. And the first "safe" cure. While less toxic than the alternatives, it's quite dangerous by modern standards.

Lyrics are from Godless Brother in Love by Iron and Wine; beautiful song.


	12. No Jericho

**This is No Jericho We've Won**

It should not have been that difficult: trying - and failing- to find a vein, hands shaking from no sleep. Who knows, perhaps it finally was my body's exhaustion getting to me.  
At least that's what I belive when the daylight finally hits me in my room upstairs, I get the story according to Cassian: that I passed out and he brought me upstairs.  
Cain went off to fetch a doctor, Cassian fed the birds and Riff, being the only other person with some medical training, dosed me. That explains how I got here, and why I ever went to bed in my suit. I crawl out from under the woolen blanket once I've heard the whole story. I should start my day as usual, lest this becomes even more of a public issue than it already is. I should get out of here before Cain returns. I brush off Cassian's hand and start getting out of bed.

"Get back in there, Jizabel."  
"No. I don't want to be seen by some other doctor."  
I get shoved back down into the mattress right after I've sat up.  
"Not this again, Jizabel. This isn't the time for you to act bratty about how backwards the doctors outside Delilah are... Look, your brother told me about the medicine you're using. It's really dangerous stuff, and you're going to keep takeing it he says. Maybe this doctor will have a safer medicine to give? Please give it a chance."  
Cassian speaks this as his hand brushes past my neck. I wrinkle my nose at our simple misunderstanding, before giving in and speaking:  
"... Very well, I'll try, but that's not how things will go. The only thing the doctor will say is that they can't treat syphilis, and that if I lived a good, wholesome life this would not have happened to me. I just don't want to sit here and listen to those words from another detached fool."  
Cassian seems to sctrutanize me and think for a moment before he replies:  
"...Things won't be like that, Jizabel. I'll stay with you the whole time, and I promise I won't let him say something like that to you."  
"And how could you possiabley stop them, Cassian? A threat? We cant get away with that any more."  
"Jizabel, don't be snide now... Just trust me."  
I hadn't meant it that way; I had not meant to say something so despective again, so soon after last night. After what I almost had.  
"... I'll just get back to sleep until Cain's doctor is here. I think the medicine is makeing my mind feel a bit off."

_And so I drifted,  
far, far out to sea_

"The only thing that doctor will say is that they can't treat syphilis, and that if I lived a good, wholesome life this would not have happened to me. I just don't want to sit here and listen to those words from another detached fool."  
I hadn't expected to hear that.  
I should have, but I hadn't. I watch the way Jizabel fidgets after saying it, after bareing his thoughts to me. I keep staring at his hands as they pick at the blanket. Honestly, I'd been prepared to argue about why he needed help, not try to convince him not to fear it. The sad thing is, Jizabel's probably right about Cain's doctor. If he is, then I wouldn't want him to go through being scolded for the bad luck he's been a victim of.  
I couldn't possiably just sit there and watch.  
"...Things won't be like that, Jizabel. I'll stay with you the whole time, and I promise I won't let him say something like that to you."  
Those words just slip out when I open my mouth. Despite the fact I know how Jizabel will react to it.  
"And how could you possibly stop them, Cassian? A threat? We can't get away with that any more."  
Of course he wouldnt belive it; when it's something so unlike the world that we lived in.  
"Jizabel, don't be snide now... Just trust me." Even if you can't understand how it feels to care, that's alright. I do now.  
He looks ashamed after hearing me say that. But that's not what I'd meant to do; I didn't want to guilt him. Jizabel lays down and shuts his eyes.  
"... I'll just get back to sleep until Cain's doctor is here. I think the medicine is making my mind feel a bit off."  
It goes without saying, that it's probably better for us both if he sleeps. Maybe the toxins and the stress of last night really are fogging his mind. Then again, what the Doctor said sounded exactly like his usual self. Of course he wouldn't belive that someone actually could protect him, even if they wanted to.  
The exam will be easier to handle with Jizabel asleep anyways. I'll talk with Cain's doctor first, maybe that way they won't have to bother Jizabel.

_I carried that anchor with me,  
close to my chest  
that's what I always do best_

"Riff, you're taller. Go wave by the road until a carriage stops."  
"Yes, Lord Cain."  
I sit at the park bench and watch as Riff calls an approaching driver over. Riff talks a bit, and then the driver speeds away. Another chauffeur not willing to make the 60 mile trip to Cambridge's College of Clinical Medicine. The second time Riff manages to call over a carriage, I rush over and climb inside, Riff following. Only after Riff, I and our travel bags are in do I tell the driver our destination.  
"The College of Medicine at Cambridge, fast as able, sir."  
The driver scoffs and looks back, disbelief on his face.  
" M'lord? That's at least two days travel. I have a family I have to go back to every night." I take my coin purse out from my coat, shifting it in my hand so the metal chimes just under my voice.  
"Are you sure you don't want the job, sir? Two days work is two days' sure pay; and, afterall, you have a family to take care of."  
It's a bit of a dirty trick, I know. But it always works.  
"...all right, m'lord. To Cambridge it is then."

Maybe an hour's passed, perhaps less, possibly more. I can't be sure, as I've been measuring our trip in terms of the changing scenery and not my pocket watch.  
Large stretches of green and open roads fly past the window when Riff speaks up over the horses' clamouring hooves.  
"Lord Cain? If you don't mind?"  
"Hm? If I don't mind what Riff? There are many things I do mind, and a few I don't."  
"Ah... It was just a question of mine, Lord Cain."  
"Go ahead and ask. I don't mind those."  
"Well, it is just that, are you certain this is such a good idea, Cain? I understand that you want to get the best doctor possible for your brother, but this trip will take us a day or two. In addition to that you sent your uncle and sister to the country for a few days, to protect them from catching the illness and give your poor brother a reprieve. But my concern is that, might not Doctor Disraeli think that we are avoiding him?"

I watch the sheep and pastoral scenes that pass us by.  
"Then he would be correct. With how he blamed me for what father did to him in the last decade, don't you think he'll fault me for this? I don't want anyone around him until he's had a few days to clam down.  
And then there's the fact that he'd be right this time if faults me, that I did nearly get him killed. I guess that means I owe it to him to get the best doctor I can before he kills himself with that drug he's using. So there you have it Riff, this trip is driven by guilt and fear."  
"...And that is also why you sent off Lord Neil and Mary?"  
"... Even if I'm the one who told Jizabel to kill that man, there's no way I could feel safe leaving my family alone with him after seeing how easily he could do it, sorry Riff."  
"Lord Cain, you owe me no apology, but he is your family, too. Don't you think you should let him know that? There is so much you both would gain if you could reconcile."  
Riff places a hand on my shoulder: warm and parental, or more like an older brother.  
"I know, Riff. I will, I'll introduce him as my brother during the Hargreevs Christmas Banquet when we return to London. Until then, I just need to figure out how we relate to each other."

_And I never learned a thing  
Why the truth holds such power  
Why I couldn't make it sing_

I sit for an hour or two by Jizabel's bedside as he sleeps. Don't get me wrong, it's not like spent my time back at Delilah sneaking into his rooms in the middle of the night. I wish I had, though. Maybe I could have kept him safe from himself one of those nights. He could have used it, knowing someone cared. I wish that instead of just sitting on the other side of his door, I would have just turned the damn knob and gone in. Or maybe that wouldn't have worked, maybe Jizabel would just have been upset further at knowing that someone saw what disarray his mind was in. Either way that's a past that didn't happen.  
Right now, Jizabel's caught up in a peaceful sleep, and doesn't seem like he'll be getting out of it anytime soon.

My stomach growls, reminding me to go down to the kitchen and look after myself too. While I'm rummaging through the kitchen pantry, one of the maids finds me.  
The older woman meets me with an admonishing gaze, before telling:  
"You have a call from the Earl, Sir Cassian."  
I follow her over to the Earl's telephone, and am given the handpiece.  
"Hello?"  
"Who is this?"  
"Cassian, and you're Cain, right? Are you and the doctor you got on your way here?"  
"... We'll be delayed. I thought, given that Jizabel himself is a doctor, he must be up to date on most medicines. It seemed to me that the only doctors who may know more than him would be the Crown's professors and researchers at Cambridge's Medical School"  
"Are you serious, Earl, Cain? Your brother needs a doctor now and you're planning to make a trip all the way to Cambridge"  
"I'm already halfway there... I'll speak to their doctors and call you when I've gotten an answer. My call will be tonight or tomorrow morning."  
"Yeah, fine."  
"Cassian, sorry for not having mentioned my plans sooner. Until I return, you and my brother can tell the servants to fix your meals, and help yourself to the liquors. Good bye."  
I put down the receiver and turn to the maid once:  
"Hey, you, could you prepare a vegetable stew, with no meat or bone, and meat with potatoes."  
I better go talk with Jizabel, and explain that at the least his dreaded doctor's visit won't happen.  
Of all things, with my luck, it seems the Doctor ran off while I was downstairs. perhaps he wasn't really sleeping after all. When I go to the window to get a look at the yards, his voice drifts out from the gardens. I grab my coat and rush down to where I heard him.

_I was still carrying the flotsam of our love,  
For scavengers to make sweet pickings of  
Or for myself_

"So what should I do, Edith, Marissa, sisters? Things such as musing on romance always seemed more of a feminine concern. Though this wouldn't quite be a proper Victorian romance. And it'd be wrong for him, wouldn't it?  
But, it'd be nice... Why would I refrain?"  
I reach the tips of my fingers out towards an amethyst crocus bloom. It was clever of the gardener to procure flowers that would bloom in the snow.

I awoke noticing that I could finally have love, and quite easily at that. Not the innocent familial one I once knew, Cain and his sister are not quite stupid enough to forget who I was. No, it was instead my noticing that Cassian does indeed intend to stay by me, and I've finally dared to wonder why.  
I don't stop to think of the fairness of it, of how difficult it would be for me to return any affection; I just savor the fact that such love is within my grasp, close enough to be tangible.  
It could well just be something platonic, paternal like that of a guardian, but that's not what I would want. I want hands on mine and _I love you_ whispered in earnest to me in the small hours of the night. I want the honest version of all those relationships I feigned to have, an honest version of the love I made a farce of. I could obtain that easily, too...  
Infatuation is an easy thing to cultivate, wrongfully so, perhaps. I know how most react to my appearance, to my mother's face I should say. Why should Cassian be the exception to such charms?  
I should not try to seduce the first person to honestly care for me, but it is far better than feeling alone. Isn't this how I've always worked, as Cassandra said: dragging other souls down to my level? I run a finger on my lips, and my body feels as if it's stolen property, though Cassian's literally is. Aren't we a good match?

"Jizabel! Kid, what are you doing out here without a coat? You told me that was bad for the immune system."  
I sit up and turn over to look at Cassian:"I said that when you were sick; I am used to the cold. Besides, Cassian, while I appreciate the sentiment, I stopped being a child a very, very long time ago."  
I hear the soft crunch of grass, crisp with frost, as Cassian moves to sit besides me.  
"I know, too soon probably... Just that you think you're used to the cold doesn't meant it won't get you worse. Between the disease, the drugs and the frost, I don't want to end up having to drag you to a hospital kicking and screaming."  
I chuckle: "We both know that won't work- actually, it would now, with your new body... I'll go in very soon, I'd just wanted some fresh air and a moment outside the Hargreevs' manor."  
Cassian's mouth forces a grin: "Speaking of that, Doctor, it seems something came up with your brother and we have the house to ourselves for a day or two-"  
It is my turn to force a grin, and Cassian's own leaves upon hearing my reply:  
"You mean to say Cain wishes to avoid me, and was terrified to leave his family alone with me."  
There is a hand stroking the back of mine, and a muttered _don't say that Jizabel_.  
"But it _is_ true. And it is right and proper, given how I spent my time terrorizing and threatening Cain. The boy would be quite dull if he could not recall that."  
The following reply is louder:"It is _not_ right and proper, Jizabel. With how badly a Hargreevs screwed you over, the family owes you more than that. I'd like to see you be able to collect what you're due."

After that phrase, there is a silence that settles over us along with the passing time.  
"Jizabel, it's cold, let's go in."  
"You can go in first, I'll follow. There's something I want to finish..."  
An oversized coat is draped over me after Cassian stands. I grasp it by the lapels, grateful.  
"Is it that conversation you were having?"  
"Yes, it was with my sisters..."  
"Oh."  
"It's alright, Cassian. I know they're not alive and listening. And I know how insane I must seem, but I'd rather be insane than alone."  
"...Maybe you could talk to me, Jizabel." I shake my head, staring at the clouds.  
"Not about this. Not yet."  
"Maybe someday? I'll see you inside, Jizabel."  
I interrupt before Cassian can turn to leave.  
"Wait! I want you to know that when you- _your body_- died, I was tempted to keep your viscera. Remeber that my family had been ruined, by then.  
I didn't do it... It seemed disrespectful, somehow. I buried you the best I could without father noticing, Cassian."  
I watch the clouds pass with bated breath; half hoping, half dreading that they are my only audience.  
"... I still have that note you left in my pocket back then. Thank you, Jizabel."  
I release that held breath: "You knew that was me?"  
"Well, yeah, it was kinda obvious. No one else writes death threats in such pretty cursive, Doctor. And no one else would have been so careless about risking his life to get me out of Delilah. Come in for lunch soon, alright?"

The front door protests mildly as I open it and step barefooted into the foyer.  
After that, the rest of the day is made up of quite noises: the soft clinking of dishes, the gentle conversation afterwards; the shifting of curtains and doors that gives way to flowing water when I bathe.  
I am then lulled by the smell of angelica and lavender on my skin back to that question I'd been considering. I try to ignore how _ridiculous_ it feels that I'm musing over how to seduce Cassian. Seduce, of all words, not love.

I stand at the mirror, running fingers through my hair, adjusting my robe, trying to be sure that everything is set just right: hair mused and robe a bit off my shoulder. Something that looks natural.  
I know it is a strange, selfish thing I am about to do. But I have never denied that I am a somewhat repulsive person. Not physically, of course. If that were the case this plan would not work; it _will_ work. I think through how to proceed: what approaches and personas have worked?  
Meridiana and the caring Doctor, Viola and 50 red roses all falling apart, kind words and hollow sympathies. Those won't work here. But still, I think I have an idea of what to do. People, all people, are easily manipulated. Devil take me, I'm a monster.  
But I never would have thought of doing this if Cassian would not have let me believe I could feel some warmth again.

_Or for myself,_  
_So I could drink the dregs of this cup at my lips_  
_Now I'll bid farewell to the dark,_  
_with one last cold kiss_

I awake with a start when my room's door creaks open in the middle of the night.  
My first impulse would be to throw something, anything at the intruder. I don't when the candle in hand lets me see it's Jizabel. I lie there, still pretending to sleep, waiting for him to speak up and say what's on his mind. Jizabel doesn't just do things like this, so something has to be difrent. He doesn't speak up, at least not until he's put his candle on the nightstand and climbed in bed over me, leaning down to whisper a soft "Cass?"  
I open my eyes and stop pretending to sleep then:  
"That nickname's new, Doctor."  
"I'm sorry, if you don't like it-"  
"No, Jizabel, I like it. It shows you're getting more comfortable with me. Actually, right now you seem _very_ comfortable with me."

He shifts, causing his night robe to slide down a bit, possibly on purpose. To be perfectly honest: Jizabel _is_ beautiful- _as much as that bastard Cassandra said_- delicate bones and fine skin; beautiful is just the only way to describe him. This isn't the first time I notice.  
It's just something I try never to think of, for his sake and my own.  
But now, Jizabel is quite literaly shoving his beauty in my face, as his face hovers inches from mine.  
I feel a bit rueful when I recall something I overheard Cassandra say, one of those times he forced Jizabel to listen. It would be inocent if said to anyone else: you look exactly like your mother. I had more important things to think of then, you know. But now that I see him, gentel pink lips brushing against my clavicle and soft violet eyes half lidded, I know it must be true. That face would be lovely on any woman. If mother and son are anything alike, then the cardmaster did all ways enjoy the chance to torment something innocent. Damn him, for what he did to them both.

I'm broken out of my thoughts by a deep purring noise that Jizabel makes within his throat. When I look up I meet bedroom eyes as his hands linger by the waistband of my pants; it's all a testament to how willing he is to use himself, to get what he wants. Here what he wants is just some company, isn't it? I ought to have known things would go like this with Jizabel. After all, where did his understanding of love, sex and attachment come from? His father's whip, those games he played with all the girls he killed, and the games Cassandra played with him. Everything was about people using each other. And now he's here to try and make me use him, like all those others did. doesnt that hurt?  
I wonder, Jizabel, was this behavior forced on you, or did you choose just to not feel alone. But, I'm _not_ Cassandra, or Viola, or Alexis. I can't just let myself do this to him. I reach down to catch his wrists, and run my thumbs along his palms.  
"Jizabel, you have to stop. Doesn't this hurt?"

_This is no Jericho that we have won,  
No victory song to be sung  
No never, no more  
I've been over that sea before, and I know it too well  
There will be no looking back for me now that I've broken the spell_

* * *

Hah, long time no see. Ha, I was writing and then classes and work get in the way.  
So, mind you, when you read this, this chapter is set just a bit before Christmas. Not in the middle of May. (This is takeing so long to finish...)  
Lyrics are from the beutiful _No Jericho_ by Susan McKeown

Maybe I got the wrong impresion, but in the manga- after the whole Meridiana affair- Jizabel kind of seemed like a slut...

PS. Edith and Marisa are just random names I picked. It felt too odd to just call them sisters.


	13. Stubborn Love

**Stubborn Love**

"Jizabel, you have to stop. Doesn't this hurt?"

..._Jizabel, doesn't this hurt?_ Is that a question about my wounds and illness? I almost ask or answer before the soft grip on my wrists lets me know something's wrong. I feel I've cheated and lied to get here, so the fear of being discovered begins to grow thick and dark in the back my mind.

That fear and stupor only grow as I feel Cassian slip away from under me to stand at the bedside. Collapsing onto the bed from the sudden loss of support, I feel naked- vulnerable in the worst way possible. I lie there, face down, feeling as if I am seventeen with my cover just blown on some Dellilah mission: numbed terror creeping through my veins. A hand that doesn't wander past my neck runs through my hair, lips press to my forehead and I hear "Just get some sleep, alright Jizabel?"

There's footsteps and the creaking of springs as Cassian goes to sit in the armchair, snuffing out my candle and leaving me his bed to sleep in.

I don't sleep as he told me to, instead I just lie in the silence and try to corner my thoughts. I try to convince myself that it _shouldn't _matter if love is real or not; after all, the object of feigned affections can't ever tell the difference. Sometime in the middle of the night it feels like Cassandra whispers in my ear: _you enjoy dragging other souls down to your level_.

**I do not**, not this time at least. Not with Cassian.

There's an unwanted realization that I was about to do something horrible _to_ _Cassian_, that I _should _be grateful I was stopped.

In truth, there's just a growing dread that wells in the pit of my stomach. The thoughts buzz about my mind: of the the warmth I could have had if Cassian would have just touched me, of what I now want, of what if I just ruined my only chance to be loved. Father would be so disgusted, to hear me think like this of his killer; I do not believe I give a damn what father would think. Just that Cassian will be disgusted when he realizes what I've tried to do.

I rush to the washroom when the fear in my stomach becomes something physical that I need to purge and vomit.  
In that rush I make sure to lock the door, but forget to tie my hair back. The pale strands cling to my cold sweat and fall in the basin of now filthy water.

I'd just washed them, I'd just washed them and now they're like this.

I don't mean to, but I rest my face on the ceramic's edge as my body continues to heave and spasm. It's exhausting and violent, and I could fall asleep- my first restful sleep of the night- if not for the frantic turning of the knob and insistent shouting. The shouts all run together as one sentence: _Jizabel, are you alright, Jizabel, what's wrong, Jizabel, please answer, open this door_.

I wipe some of the vomit off my face and prepare to speak up, knowing Cassian will pick the lock if I'm quite for too long.

I mutter out _I'm fine _the strongest able.

Too late. Cassian barges in to cautiously kneel by me. Cautious because of the filth I'm sure.

I groan out _I didn't want you to see me like this...so disgusting_.

"Damnit, Jizabel, that's no reason to have locked me out. Not when you're this ill."

As I continue heaving, I realize that that's it. That's my excuse. The drugs, the disease and the exhaustion are why I acted as I did tonight. That's all Cassian need know, and he won't ask further if I don't want him to. I don't bother trying to stop the heaving when I respond in groans:

_got drunk... can't remember how got here... please, run bath...So sorry, about tonight_

"...Sure, Doctor."

And of course, Cassian has to be just kind enough to oblige and not recoil away from the mess I am when he has to help me. I'm surprised he draws the water himself instead of asking the servants. It's what I'd prefer, but I'm surprised he'd still indulge me. Maybe my lie was believed.

I slip into the water and am told to wait there. I may have imagined it, half asleep as I was, but I think I muttered _Cass, thank you_.

_She'll lie and steal, and cheat, and beg you from her knees_

_Make you think she means it this time_

**_She'll tear a hole in you, the one you can't repair_**

**_But I still love her, I don't really care_**

With someone like Jizabel, there are some fears you just have to have. Like fearing that you were too blunt with him, fearing that that compelled him to poison himself, and fearing that if you're not quick enough you'll find a corpse on the other side of the bathroom door.

But, tonight it seems that fear's just an emotion and not much more.

His problem right now is just all the emotions he can't find a better way to process, and not a more real sort of poison.  
Jizabel's has this habit, from back in Delilah -before that, probably- of turning thoughts and fears into physical illness at times.  
What did Zenopia call it, somatoform? Well, the name doesn't matter. What fear is it this time?

I rush to the servants' washroom, to rinse off and get a change of clothes. I take the time to grab towels and a pitcher and glass of water. If Jizabel were actually as drunk as he says I'd look for some remedy.  
But we both know that's not the case. We're just pretending that things are something easier for him to cope with.

But, what fear is it this time?

I've seen this before, when he can't deal with thinking he's unwanted. He'll come up with all these stories he'll stick to- _like father loves me_- hoping that one day he'll believe them himself.  
So what can I do to not hurt him, but go along with the act? It's just too much for him to take if I try to have an honest conversation about what's wrong.

I better hurry back. Seeing how he was asleep, Jizabel could actually drown in the tub.

The stairs are of fine make, completely silent as I make the journey back up with the pitcher balanced on a pile of towels and rags.  
I have to put all that down to push the door open.

Jizabel hasn't drown at least. Instead he just fell asleep, arms folded on the edge of the tub, chin resting on them and hair splayed out on the surface of the water.

He stirs and wakes when I wipe his face with a damp washcloth. He tries to speak but only gags on the taste in his mouth.

"Jizabel, here- drink this." A pale arm stretches out to take the cup to his lips, which swallow the water and croak out thanks.

"Do you need any help, Doctor?"

In a whisper he responds: "Please keep your voice down, Cassian. It's just the headache from the alcohol."

I lift the pitcher over his head. "Of course, sorry Jizabel. Should I?"

He nods and shuts his eyes before I pour the water down his hair and back.

"Can you do the rest yourself, Doctor, or should I help?"

"I am fine, Cassian. Just a bit groggy. If you could retrieve my soaps and robes, and throw some rags over that...mess in the corner."

I nod and get up to do as he asked, before then he lightly catches and releases my hand.

"Cassian, thank you for doing this."

It can't possibly be healthy to let him pretend, but... if it keeps him from feeling pained, what choice do I have?

"Sure thing, Jizabel."

_It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all_

**_The opposite of love's indifference_**

After draining and refilling the the tub of water that I am in a few times, I decide that I'm good enough, clean enough to get out and dress. Looking in the mirror, there's the small gain that staying up all night has indeed left me bleary eyed and haggard enough to seem drunk. I slip on the robe, and go down the stairs. I want to sleep, but not _alone _in_ my_ room, with my things and the thoughts they hold- so I make my way to the divan in the library.

There are still a few hours until dawn, and I imagine I'll be able to get a few hours more of rest after the morning. No one will disturb me, avoidant as the servants are. I'm safe here.

I'm safe.

With how accepting Cassian was, I know my lies must have been believed. How else could he still stand me?  
How else? I turn and clutch the throw pillow to my chest, under my chin as I drift of to sleep for the night.

"Jizabel, wake up."  
A hand nudges my shoulder driving me to bury my face further in the pillow.  
"Jizabel, it's past the time you normally take your medicine at. You can get to sleep again after that."  
My eyes open to the afternoon sun, and I sit up slowly with my hand to my forehead, the way I've seen my patients do when their sedatives wear out.

"Cassian, where is it?"  
"The needle? It's on the end table right besides you."

I look there, to see the needle along with milk, biscuits and fruit.

"When did you get here Cassian?"  
"Right now, just a few minutes ago. But that food's from this morning, when I thought you might wake up hungry."

"I see... Hand me the shot of atoxyl."

Cassian sits by me, his grip on my arm serving as a tourniquet while I administer the shot to myself.  
I eat some of the food beside me in a rush, Cassian remaining unobtrusive and silent until I have finished.

"Is that all Jizabel?"  
"Come again?" He places a hand chastely on my knee and hesitates before speaking.  
"I mean to say is there anything else I can do for you, Jizabel? Maybe... There are some troubles you would like talk about?"

Does he know how warm his touch feels, even after I know he doesn't want mine?

I recall my unobtainable dream.

"Cassian, the only problem I have right now is with drink. And the fault there lies more with the proof of Cain's liquors. So please, go scold the absinthe."  
"Hah, that's clever, Jizabel. But... I think we both know you don't need any help with alcohol. That's something you can deal with on your own. But, maybe something else was bothering your sleep last night? You can tell me anything, you know."  
There is a weight upon my shoulder from his hand.  
"...perhaps, but I was honestly too drunk to remember anything."  
Cassian sighs and gives a gentle squeeze to the flesh above my knee. He smiles -for me- when he talks.  
"Alright, then. I'll let you get back to your sleep then, Jizabel."

And I do just that, before I have the time to worry. Before my mind can scream at me _liar, he knows_.

_So pay attention now, I'm standing on your porch screaming out_

_And I won't leave until you come downstairs_

I don't really get much sleep in the hour or two before dawn, thoughts all too busy in my mind.

It's all about Jizabel, because really what else could I think of now?

I try to sympathize with him, I try to understand him. I don't really know _anything _about his past. As much it hurts to admit, Jizabel still won't trust me with anything that can be that painful. I doubt he'll ever forget how Cassandra used it against him _and guess who I look like now_. But, I know what that man that called himself Jizabel's father was like. I was a part of Delilah, after all.

Mistakes existed aplenty, forgiveness didn't. The Card Master wouldn't give any benefit of the doubt, least of all to his son. So, of course Jizabel would be compelled to lie, to cover things up.

Still, can't Jizabel see that I'm different? Didn't he believe me when I said that I'd be the one who's always there for him? Can't he _feel _that I love him?

It hurts to realize that all these answers must be _no_.

It hurts to realize what a hard soul he is to save, to realize just how unreachable he makes himself. In his mind the distance between us is enough that he needs to lie to keep me with him; and I have to find a way through. I have to.

Before day breaks, I make my way downstairs, knowing I won't sleep without scotch.

On my way to the cellars, I notice who is on the library divan.

With his pale frame caught against the brandy colored velvet, black satin cushion clutched to his chest, hair a cool halo - Jizabel looks exactly like the angel he is: beautiful and damned and so very fragile. I don't bother worrying about sleep any further.

I go in, quietly locking the door behind me. I kneel besides him, just to try and see if the expression on his face is a peaceful one. It is; I sleep right there for the remainder of the night.

The ringing of the telephone wakes me in the morning. It wakes me but doesn't wake Jizabel.  
I watch that he remains asleep as I go over to pick up the phone's receiver by the library door.

"Cain?"

"Yes, Cassian. We had some trouble getting any of the Professors to speak, you know how professionals can be about giving free advice-"

"Let me guess, you took a vacation to Cambridge for nothing?"

"No. We did get advise from a visiting lecturer. At least that's what he told us he was- honestly, he was a very eccentric old man in a lab coat, but he seemed to know what he was talking about... When I mentioned the medicine Jizabel's using, he went on excitedly about how it was an incredible cure and started asking about the patient's symptoms and recovery. Like I said, he was a bit odd-"

"You know, he reminds me of someone..."

"Jizabel?"

"...No, an old co-worker of ours... The Hermit, Doctor Zenopia."

There's a draw of breath on the other end of the line: "I think that was his name. Did I just put you both in danger?"

"Relax, Earl. I don't think we need to worry, he'll forget or he won't care."

I watch from the corner of my eye as Jizabel stirs, only to settle back to sleep.

"Look, Cain, I have to be going soon. By the way, when will you guys get back?"

"At about eleven o'clock. Should we hurry or delay?"

"...Feel free to take your time."

I nearly bring my palm to my face when I realize that Jizabel's slept past the time he takes his medicine at. I'd best wake him.

**_And I don't blame you dear for running like you did all these years_**

**_I would do the same, you'd best believe_**

_And the highway signs say we're close but I don't read those things anymore_

_I never trusted my own eyes_

_It's just an excuse, to keep things as they are _I think as I stretch my arms over my head before pretending to get back to sleep.

I lay there, basking in the sun on the divan, not quite dreaming and fairly certain that if I have some want or responsibility then I won't have to be the one to handle it. My sunny disposition is darkened when I realize that as I slaved in Delilah, this must have been the life Cain enjoyed.  
This same sun, this same library, this same divan with it's mousy gold velvet.

I shove that thought to the back of my mind, after all I am trying very hard not to think of such misery right now.

But the truth can become a very difficult thing to outrun. Every beautiful sight in Cain's mansion encourages the thought to come edging back.

I walk out, dodging through the halls towards the balcony. To get away from these thoughts- _truths_- I don't want to deal with.

There's just the soft clicking of my steps, the turning knob and dusky light when I go out onto the balcony. I can't be blamed for not noticing him until he speaks.

"You shouldn't have done that, Jizabel." Cassian speaks softly, almost dreamily, while watching the first stars dot the evening. I sway at the door way, hand focused on the cool metal of the knob.

"What was that, Cassian?"

"...Well, I guess I was acting pretty dumb for much of today myself." Voice low and mellow, he looks back to me and gestures to the empty place beside him. I watch him continue to speak as best I can in the diminishing light.

"It's just that, Jizabel, you know I don't want to see you get hurt?"

I nod shifting back and forth on the ball of my foot.

"So I've spent the last day going in circle's in my mind about you, _because _of you. And then just now I realized that if I keep that up, I'll just be helping you hurt yourself by hiding further in your own mind."

I move my hand from the door knob, stomach turning to knots if it weren't for the calm that shines in his eyes.

"...That's not hurting me, Cassian."

"...Then it's hurting _me_, Jizabel. So, would it be alright with you if I would just speak?"

Again, his sense of calm overwhelms me. It's strange how I don't panic and run the way I thought I would if confronted with the truth.

"Cassian... You've known all along, haven't you? You were just pretending to... to not despise me for trying to use you."

"Yes, I knew. It _was _selfish, and hurtful, but I don't despise you. Not in the least. Never could. The only thing I was pretending at was to not know. My care for you is real. So just listen, alright Jizabel?"

I nod, focus my eyes on his. "How can that be true, Cassian? How can you you honestly just forgive me like that? No one else has."

Even as I feel my voice crumble like dry earth, Cassian is the one who looks broken down.

"You don't forgive yourself either, do you Jizabel? It was just... What you were about to do was not the right thing for you, so I had to stop it.  
Yes, it was hurtful and it was wrong for yourself. It was wrong because you were about to hurt yourself, and hurtful for me because you would have used me to do it. But- and I don't know if you want to hear this from me, what with the man I look like- I still think you're unbelievably beautiful. Not as in what you look like, but as in who you really are, when it shines through- nothing could ever dull that.  
Honestly, I don't think there's a single stupid, selfish thing you could do to make me love you less."

"...Do you mean to say something like unconditional love, Cassian?" As in it's _real_, as in I've tested it and it's _real_.

"Yeah, something like that, Jizabel."

It's odd, but for all I'd expected myself to scream in joy or anger -or to sob in relief- when I could finally _believe_ words like that, I just stand quite: a lifetime of fears and misgivings sifting through my fingers like the dust.

_I can't be told it can't be done_

**_So keep your head up, keep your love_**

_Keep your head up, my love _

"London and it's roads just had to be running slow today" I comment to Riff as he does his best to drag in our baggage in silence.

I recall that Cassian wanted me to run late, presumably to give him time to calm down Jizabel. But when he said late, he certainly could not have meant it to this extent. With the ungodly hour it is, those two must be asleep. I slip my shoes off, and proceed down the back halls with bare feet hoping I'm silent.

_"That is Cygnus, and that is Cannis Major."_

_"What about that really bright one, Jizabel, love?"_

_"Hm, Cass? Over there? It's Venus."_

The voices come from an open balcony door.

Honestly, I had no idea that my brother enjoyed stargazing.

LA VITA NUOVA

In that book which is

My memory...

On the first page

That is the chapter when

I first met you

Appear the words...

Here begins a new life

-Dante Alighieri

* * *

AN:

So, I know I keep mentioning Jizabel hearing Cassandra. This is not a ghost story, I just figured that because of the hypnosis, Cassandra was (I assume) the first and only one to vocalize a lot of subconscious fears, flaws and truths for Jizabel (other than Alexis, but Alexis put them there so he doesn't count). He said aloud those types of thoughts that Jizabel could otherwise silence.  
These fears then play themselves over in Cassandra's voice, just because Jizabel would rather think of them as Cassandra's thoughts than as his own.

Just reminding y'all that this is not a ghost story.

On anther note, it seems my first actually romantic fluffy scene somehow got written from Cain's perspective... yeah, that's me as a writer.

And thanks to BKtem and Cass-Everlasting.

Song is Stubborn Love by the Lumineers.


End file.
